


Stitches

by ladyphlogiston



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 51,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyphlogiston/pseuds/ladyphlogiston
Summary: Three women discover their magic, but the evil they are up against is far beyond their power to defeat. Sometimes you just need to do your bit and trust that the rest will come right in time.(My NaNoWriMo novel, inspired by Charles Williams' Greater Trumps, Caeria's Pet Project, and my own experience)





	1. Chapter 1

"I think I need to tell you something," Victoria Fitzwilliam said to her husband Hugo, nervously twisting her fingers. "It's not bad," she added hastily, when she saw him tense up. She'd been waiting all evening to discuss this, and now that the kids were in bed she couldn't put it off any longer. 

Hugo put down his magazine and swung his legs off the couch so she could sit next to him.

Victoria sat down and flicked her straight black hair off her shoulders, still feeling nervous. "At least, I don't think it's bad. Just...odd, I guess. It may be nothing. But I think I should tell you."

"Well, why don't you tell me and we'll figure out whether it's something or not?" he asked, smiling. He slung his arm around her and pulled her to lean her head against his shoulder.

"Do you remember the blanket I did for Katie Law's baby?" she asked, remembering the incident herself.

Of course neither of them had forgotten. She'd made a simple cotton muslin swaddling blanket for Katie's baby shower, and had hand embroidered a large dragonfly motif in one corner. She loved to embroider, and frequently made such gifts for friends.

The blanket and its design had seemed normal enough, but when she'd finished tying off the last thread, there had been a sudden flash of light.

"What was that?" Hugo had asked. He'd been sitting at his computer at the other end of the living room, but the light was bright enough to attract his attention.

"I don't know. It's not dry enough for heat lightning, is it?" She'd replied, getting up to look out the window.

They hadn't been able to come up with a source for the light, and eventually they'd dropped the subject and forgotten about it.

"What about it?" Hugo asked now.

"Well, I saw her today at the office - she's not properly back but she's doing a bit of work from home and she had to pick up some papers - and she went out of her way to thank me for it. She said that Zane has been very fussy and colicky, and none of the other swaddles or blankets work, but when she puts him in mine he settles right down and goes to sleep. She said she calls it his magic sleeping blanket."

"I'm glad he likes it so much. I remember when Grace was that age, and the only way she would sleep was in that velcro blanket thing...what was it called?" Hugo asked, smiling over the fond memory.

"But that's the odd thing about it," Victoria said, "Katie has other swaddle blankets, some of them exactly the same as mine. I made it the standard size, the same size as the commercial ones. A few other ladies gave homemade ones, but they were all about the same size. I think Joy even bought the same fabric as I did. But Katie says mine is the only one that works."

"That is odd," Hugo agreed thoughtfully.

Victoria started twisting her fingers again. "I wouldn't have thought of it, but there was that weird flash of light, and when she said that, I suddenly wondered if maybe...." she trailed off, unwilling to complete the thought out loud.

"Maybe magic, you mean?" Hugo asked, twisting around to look at her.

"I don't know!" she cried. She waved her hands, trying to express barely-formed thoughts. "I don't know what to think! Like I said, it's probably nothing. Just coincidence, and my blanket smells better or something. I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry."

Hugo shifted and hugged her. "Don't be sorry. It's clearly on your mind, and that alone is a good reason to tell me about it. And it is odd - we never did figure out what that flash of light was."

"The whole project was odd, really," Victoria added, resting her head on his chest. The texture of his russet sweater felt comforting against her cheek. "I don't think I mentioned it at the time, but I barely remembered having done the stitching when I was finished. Of course I generally think about other things while I work, but this was more than usual. I didn’t even use the blue I'd planned to use for the wings - I grabbed a more purple blue instead, and I don't even remember doing it. It looks fine, probably better than my first choice, but still."

"Do you remember what you were thinking about?" Hugo asked.

Victoria lifted her head, staring into space as she tried to think back. "Not really. Maybe about Katie and her pregnancy? I don't really remember. It was a while ago."

Hugo pulled her back down against his chest. "Well, it's all very odd. I don't think either of us has anything resembling an answer. Are you making any more baby blankets soon? Might be interesting to see if anything else odd happens."

"That's a good point. I didn't have any planned, but Joy did say her sister is pregnant the other day. I could make one for her," Victoria replied.

"That sounds good," Hugo said, stroking one hand down Victoria's back.

Victoria snuggled closer. "It's probably nothing," she murmured, finally relaxing against him. "Probably nothing will happen and this will all be silly."

"Probably," he agreed, "and if not, we'll figure it out then. In the meantime..." his hand snaked under the hem of her shirt as he leaned down to kiss her.

\---

The next morning, Grace couldn't find her library books and Ethan wanted strawberry jelly instead of grape. Somehow the normalcy of such minor aggravations helped Victoria forget her worries from the day before. Surely nothing so impossible as magic could be happening while she was racing all over the house looking for a book about koalas.

Grace finally found the book about koalas on the shelf in the bathroom, and Ethan finally decided to have honey on his sandwich instead, and Victoria hugged them both and got them out the door and on their bus on time. She added getting more muslin for Joy's sister's baby blanket to her list of things to do that day and left for work. 

Victoria worked at the only museum in their small town. In theory, the Browning Museum was for the preservation of local history. In reality, the museum had accumulated a large and varied collection of everything that anyone thought was worth saving. Some of the collection was quite valuable, some of it was fascinating, and some of it did indeed represent local history, but quite a lot of it was junk. 

"Good morning, Maryam," Victoria greeted the museum director as she walked in. The museum lobby had looked quite elegant fifteen years ago, with its wood panel walls, stone tile floor, and large-format paintings of some of the more picturesque local landscapes, but it was somewhat scuffed now. The office, on the other hand, had never looked elegant. But a large window let sunlight in, and the pale blue walls were at least inoffensive. 

"Good morning, Victoria. Are you busy today?" Maryam asked.

"Not really. I intended to start writing the next membership report, and I expect I'll need to answer some emails, but I'm flexible. Do you need me?" Victoria replied.

"It would be a help. Do you remember all those boxes marked Diagio downstairs? I've been looking for a list of what's in them and it looks like they were never cataloged," Maryam said. 

"Well, that will be quite a project. There's quite a few of them, if I remember right. Do we know when we got them?" Victoria asked, dropping her dark blue wool peacoat at her desk and checking that her blouse and slacks were tidy. 

Maryam held up a thin file folder. "I pulled our file this morning. We have a few letters that indicate that Helena Diagio passed away forty three years ago, in 1974. She left us her collection of first editions, which should be a dozen or so books according to the lawyer's letter, a music box, and a couple of antique Chinese vases. We have a delivery receipt from a few months after her death, though it doesn't have much in the way of details. I've emailed Aron Finch to see if he knows why we got so much more than we expected. He wasn't our lawyer then, but his father was, so they might know."

"I hope it didn't get misdelivered. That would be a nightmare to sort out. Well, let me know when you want to go down and I'll come help," Victoria said, sitting down and logging in to her computer.

Victoria had answered eight emails (two questions about membership terms, one list of 19th century watercolor paintings owned by the museum, one list of patron-level members to be invited to a private cocktail hour at the museum, one list of sound equipment needed for the same cocktail hour, and three related to the wording of a planned promotional flyer for mass distribution) by the time Maryam called her over. 

"Finch got back to me, which was quicker than I expected. I gather Miss Helena Diagio was one of those little old ladies who never gets rid of anything. Her basement and attic were completely crammed full when she died. She left her first editions and the vases to us, a few sentimental bequests to friends, and everything else to a nephew. The nephew lived in another state and didn't want to sort through it all, so he donated a lot of it to us," Maryam explained as they made their way downstairs.

The basement was used for storage, so the white walls and steel shelves were kept clean and dry. But it still felt dusty, and Maryam held her long wine-colored skirt up as they picked their way down the stairs.

They walked past the shelves and found the pile of boxes from Helena Diagio. Victoria started to walk around the pile, and stopped, appalled. 

"I hadn't realized how many there are!" she exclaimed. "There must be nearly a hundred boxes!" 

Maryam seemed startled also. "I confess I hadn't either. No wonder no one went through them." 

"Do you think any of it is even worth keeping?" Victoria asked. 

"Well, there's the first editions, assuming they're still in good condition. And the vases were supposed to be very fine. And who knows? Even if the rest isn't worth anything, some of it may be fairly interesting just for how old it is. We may be able to pull together an exhibit about daily life a century ago," Maryam suggested. 

"We have some antique toys somewhere, don't we? Mr. McFarland was grilling me about them at the Easter Egg Hunt. They were donated by his family," Victoria remembered. 

"There you are, then. In any case, someone has to go through it, and if we do it a bit at a time it won't be too bad. At least we don't have a deadline," said Maryam. She used a hand truck to maneuver the first two boxes into the light and began to open the top one. "We don't need to make any decisions yet, just record what's here," she added 

Victoria opened her laptop and readied the camera they'd brought down. "It'll still take forever, but I'll make all the lists you need," she said.


	2. January

"What was that?"  
  
"The lights I think."  
  
"Does someone have a camera?"  
  
"Maybe it's just a weird power surge."  
  
Grace Fitzwilliam hurried to close her notebook and tuck it out of sight. The chatter flowed around her, but she didn't participate in it. She knew exactly what that flash had been. She just hadn't expected to ever see it again.  
  
Her mother had been a magic-user. That had been one of the more surreal conversations of her life: driving to the store to pick out new bed linens (her parents' present for her sixteenth birthday had been money to use to redecorate her room) and being told that her mother did magic.  
  
"How long has this been a thing?" she'd finally asked, after her mother had explained.  
  
"I did it for the first time by accident when you were twelve," was the calm reply.  
  
"Why are you telling me now?"  
  
"You're sixteen, which is old enough to make some decisions for yourself, so I thought I should ask before putting sleep charms on the new sheets. I won't if you don't want them."  
  
"No, I mean why am I only hearing this now? You've been doing it for years."  
  
"Well, you were twelve. Twelve isn't a great age for being discreet. And I still had a lot of unanswered questions, and also there were some not-so-nice elements in the magic-user community, and I just didn't want you to be involved with that if I could help it."  
  
Grace stared out the window, thinking back. "Was there - was that that Jeffrey guy?"  
  
"That Jeffrey guy?"  
  
"I overheard you and Daddy talking once, late at night. There was something about someone named Jeffrey and absolutely needing to stop him. You sounded scared."  
  
Her mother stopped at the light and turned to look at her. "I'm sorry you heard that, sweetie. It must have worried you."  
  
Grace fidgeted a bit. "I mean, a little. I was okay. Is...is he still out there?"  
  
The light changed and her mother drove again. "That…was a tough situation. It turned out he'd even killed some people. But he's gone now. You don't have to worry."  
  
Grace wanted to ask more, but she could hear the tension in her mother's voice that meant she wouldn't get any more answers. She changed the topic.  
  
Grace had wanted to ask more about it, but aside from allowing Grace to watch her embroider the new sheets, her mother had always been hesitant to talk about magic. Grace knew her mother was friends with a few other magic-users, but she never knew much about it.

  
Her mother had passed away a few years ago now. The official reason was a heart attack, but in truth she had been fading for some time, and her death had not really been a surprise. She had made sleeping charms for all her family before she died, and Grace still used hers.  
  
And now magic had happened to her. At 58, Grace had never lost the habit of doodling during meetings and lectures. Sometimes the doodles served as inspiration for her architectural designs, but most of the time they were just doodles, excuses to move the pen over the paper.  
  
Today she'd worked on a fractal-inspired pattern which had wound up covering the entire page of her notebook. As she filled in the last line, a bright flash of light signaled that she had, somehow, made a magic charm.  
  
Grace was just beginning to calm down when her phone pinged. She picked it up.  
  
A message covered the screen of the phone. It was just text on the screen, not part of any messaging app she had installed.  
  


> "Don't panic! You just did magic. Congratulations! You should go to charm-renegade.org for more information, including articles about what sort of gifts there are, how they might work, and tips for making your magic work better. If you want, someone can pop by your house or place of business to discuss magic with you.  
>   
> "Keep a journal in the next few days and see if you can figure out how your magic works and what it does. If you need help, we do have a specialist who can visit and help you determine the details of your gift. We'll be in touch!"

  
  
Well. That was...invasive. Grace put her phone away. 


	3. Chapter 2

Victoria stopped by the bakery on the way home to pick up some rye bread and talk to Joy Kemper. Joy had grown up down the block from Victoria, and after she graduated from college she had come back and opened the Apple Ginger Bakery downtown.

"Hi Victoria! I'll be out in a minute!" Joy called from the back when Victoria entered.

A minute later, Joy came out, brushing flour from her striped canvas apron.

"Hi Joy! How are you?" Victoria asked, grasping Joy's hand rather than hugging her.

"I'm doing well, though the cake I'm working on is not cooperating. But I'll get it in the end," Joy replied.

"Is Addison better? I heard she stayed home from school earlier this week," Victoria asked, moving to pick up the bread she needed.

"Oh yes, it was really just a cold, but it was keeping her awake and she was just miserable. It's nice when they're only in first grade and can get away with missing days," Joy replied.

Victoria pulled her wallet out of her purse, and they were quiet for a moment as Joy rang up the sale.

"You mentioned your sister is pregnant, didn't you? How is she doing?" Victoria asked, as casually as she could.

"Mandy? She's as well as she can be, really. She's tired and uncomfortable, but everything is going well," Joy said.

"This is her second baby, isn't it?" asked Victoria.

"Her third, actually. Owen is four, and Lacie is almost two. I'm guessing this will be their last, but you never know," Joy said, her eyes twinkling.

"I was thinking I might make her a blanket or two, actually. I'm sure she has plenty, but everything gets so stained, and I'm a bit at loose ends anyway," Victoria offered.

"I'm sure she'd love to get them! They're having a girl, I believe, but they don't have a name yet. If you drop them off here I'd be happy to pass them on," Joy suggested, smiling.

"I'll do that. Thanks!" Victoria said as she turned to leave.

\---

Victoria updated her embroidery journal that evening after the children were in bed. She made a habit of tracking her projects, writing down what she'd made, what pattern she'd used and where she'd gotten it, what threads and fabrics were used, and any other interesting notes. Now she had to add a new section.

First she flipped back to the entry for the blanket she'd given to Katie Law. The page was full, so she found a piece of paper to tape in. At first she put "Magic" at the top of the sheet, but after a moment she ripped it in two and grabbed a new one. She headed this one "Odd Occurrences."

She wrote down everything she could think of - the flash of light and the wrong thread and her own distraction and Katie's comment, and also things like the weather and where she had been working, in case it turned out to be useful.

Once she'd taped in the insert, she turned to a new page and started the entry for the new blanket. After writing down the basic facts, she pulled her pattern file out of her work basket and began flipping through it. A lovely stars and moon motif caught her eye, but she kept going, looking for the dragonfly. If she was going to be hunting odd occurrences, she was going to do it methodically.

Locating the dragonfly, Victoria set up her project. She transferred the pattern as usual, selected her needle, laid out her threads. She mentally debated for a few moments between the light blue she'd originally chosen and the purplish blue she'd used accidentally, and decided to stick with the purplish blue.

Seated on the couch, she started stitching. She found herself checking every few stitches for anything out of the ordinary. Was she focused on the wrong thing? Was she thinking too much? Did she feel warmer than usual or was it just the room? Was that a tingle in her fingers or just her imagination?

The dragonfly outline was almost complete when Hugo came in, startling her out of her concentration. He smiled and held out a mug of tea, and she found herself relaxing as she set the blanket aside to take it.

"Are you trying it again?" he asked, settling in beside her. He'd changed into jeans when he'd gotten home, and his brown hair was ruffled from lying down with Ethan to help him fall asleep.

"I don't think it's going well," Victoria replied ruefully. She looked around, realizing how tense she'd been. The living room was peaceful, with its soft gray walls and blue patterned rug and the computer humming in the corner. "I'm far too tense, I think," she added.

"You're certainly focused on it. You didn't answer when I asked if you wanted tea," Hugo told her.

"I'm sorry! Thank you for getting it for me anyway," Victoria said.

"You're welcome. Anything I can do to help you stop over thinking it?" Hugo asked.

"I think I'll take a break now and come back to it later," Victoria decided, leaning down to pack the project neatly back into her work basket. "Did I tell you about Maryam's new project for us?"

She hadn't, of course, so Victoria explained about the boxes from Helena Diagio and Maryam's determination to sort through them.

"Maryam was talking about doing a little every day, but I doubt we'll keep that up for long - the cocktail evening is coming up, and after that we'll have to do the usual Fall Gala, which always consumes everything for ages. And then there's the holidays. Still, we'll chip away at it. I'm really rather excited to see if anything interesting is in there," she concluded.

"What will you do with it?" Hugo asked. At some point during her explanation, Victoria had ended up leaning against Hugo, her back against his body and his arm slung around her waist. She pulled the gray and white quilt from the back of the couch and tugged it over her legs.

"Depends on what it is. Maryam is talking about doing a historical every day life sort of exhibit, which would be a good thing. Miss Diagio lived in the area, so she may have items that will end up in the permanent collection. If there aren't any conditions on the bequest, we may end up selling the first editions - not if they're important to local history, of course, but if it's Dickens or someone, then we could use the money more than we need the books.

"Today we mostly waded through piles of polyester clothes from the seventies, which we won't keep, but we did find a jewelry box. Mostly just costume jewelry, we think, but some of them are cool Art Nouveau pieces that might be interesting. Maryam isn't an expert in jewelry, so she's sending photos to someone at the Smithsonian," explained Victoria.

The conversation moved on, as they calmed themselves and each other and the night got dark.

\---

Victoria completed the dragonfly blanket the next evening. She slowed down as she stitched the final stitches, wary of what might happen. She carefully completed the final stitch, tied the knot, and snipped the thread. Nothing happened.

She sat and stared at the finished blanket in her lap. The white muslin looked the same as it always did. She glared resentfully at the neat dragonfly in soft blues and purples.

Hugo turned to look at her from the computer, where he'd been reading Wikipedia's "List of wars extended by diplomatic irregularity." He surveyed her for a moment, then got up and crossed the room to sit next to her and put a comforting hand on the her back.

"You finished it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And nothing happened?"

"That's right."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Well," he eventually began, "either it's all just an odd coincidence, and you were just distracted and the light was lightning or something and little Zane is just being a baby, or something weird did happen that time and not this time."

"Thank you, that's very helpful," Victoria snarked.

Hugo smiled. "You're very welcome, I'm glad I could help," he replied, deliberately misunderstanding her.

Victoria looked up and cracked a smile. "At least I tried, I guess."

"At least you tried," he agreed. "And I'm sure Joy's sister will love it," he added.

Victoria looked at the blanket again, uncertain. "I'm not sure I want to give it to her. I was so stressed about it and I'm not sure I actually like it."

"It looks fine to me," Hugo said.

"Oh, it's fine. I just don't like it. I wanted to do a moon and stars design, but I thought I should do the same exact pattern, since we're testing a hypothesis," Victoria explained.

"Well, you did make extra blankets. You could the stars and moon on another one," Hugo suggested.

"I know, but I feel silly when I've already made this one and there's really nothing wrong with it," Victoria said. She folded her arms and hunched her shoulders.

"But you're not satisfied with this one. The point of embroidery is for you to feel relaxed and happy, and you don't. Therefore you should do another one so you can be satisfied with it," Hugo pointed out. He stroked his hand down her back and then reached around to tug her closer.

Victoria sighed. "Okay, you're probably right. I'll do another. Until further notice, it was all a weird coincidence."

\---

The next afternoon, Grace needed help with her homework. Usually Grace and Ethan did their homework at the plastic card table in the kitchen before dinner, and Victoria was available for the occasional question or conversation but mostly focused on preparing dinner, sorting the mail, and taking care of any bills or household financial statements that came in. But Grace was finding seventh grade considerably more difficult than sixth grade had been, and Victoria found she needed to be more involved.

So she sat at the table with her children, discussing Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken." Ethan, bored by the conversation, had started flipping through his older sister's binder.

"What are these?" he asked, stopping at a page covered with intersecting lines in a spiraling pattern.

Grace looked over. "It's a fractal. My friend Addy did a presentation on them, and I was drawing it in math class."

Victoria peered over. "It's very pretty. Fractals repeat a pattern, don't they?" she asked, struggling to remember the little bit she'd read about them, years ago.

Grace nodded. "Each line has these two lines," she explained, pointing. "Sometimes I left them plain though, so it's not a real fractal."

"It's still very cool," Victoria said. She picked up Grace's worksheet and skimmed through the answers they'd written down so far. "It looks like we're finished with this. Is there anything else you need help with?"

"I have to finish my math homework, but it's easy," Grace said confidently. "I might need you to quiz me on my history chapter though."

"Let me know when you get there," Victoria said, and got up to make dinner.

\---

Dinner went well, and Ethan and Grace went outside to play tag for a while before bedtime. The evening was cold, but they needed to release some energy, so Hugo had bundled them up and sent them out.

Hugo started washing the dishes, so Victoria got the next swaddling blanket and the moon and stars pattern and brought them to the table. She piled Ethan's books to clear some space and began tracing the pattern to transfer it to the fabric.

Grace's binder, still open to her fractal design, caught Victoria's eye. It really was very nice. Maybe she could stitch one of Grace's designs sometime. It would make a beautiful throw pillow. She'd have to talk to Grace about it.

"Decided to start the new one?" Hugo asked, glancing back at her.

"Yes, and I think it will be lovely," Victoria replied, "I'm not sure what colors I'm going to use - the pattern calls for dark blue and gold, but I might use pastel colors instead."

"That would be nice," Hugo said.

They were quiet for a few minutes, focused on their tasks. The pattern Victoria had chosen had intricate filigree designs filling the moon, which were slightly tricky to trace.

"How was your day?" Victoria finally asked, when she switched to the easier job of tracing the stars.

"Pretty good. I'm working on debugging my program, and I'm not quite there. I think I've misplaced a multiplier," Hugo replied.

"Will it do what you wanted it to do?" Victoria asked.

"I really think it will. The old version couldn't handle certain cases, but I'm taking a totally different approach to the problem and I think it will be more flexible. And if not, I'll try something else," he said, smiling.

"Still, it sounds like the debug is being frustrating," Victoria commented.

"It is, but it always is. If I get stuck I'll get someone else to take a look at it," Hugo replied. He placed the last pan in the draining rack and picked up a tea towel (this one embroidered with a design of flying birds in dark teal and strawberry red) to wipe his hands.

Victoria looked at the clock. "We'd better get the kids in. It's almost time for bed," she said.

\---

After Grace and Ethan were in bed, Victoria settled down to do her stitching on the couch in the living room. After trying several color combinations, she chose two pinks and a soft tan for the project and started on the moon's outline. Hugo wandered in with a novel and sat at the other end of the couch to read.

 _This is nice_ , Victoria thought to herself. _Quiet and normal and not having to worry about....whatever that was. Not having to worry. Just me and the pretty colors and a sweet baby who can curl up and sleep in a pretty blanket, with those little baby eyelids that look like they're folded closed and her little round head and her feet kicking when she dreams..._

The time passed without Victoria noting it. Hugo put down his book and moved to the computer. A door opened and closed upstairs: Grace or Ethan getting up to use the bathroom. Victoria outlined the moon, stitched its filigree pattern, and started work on the stars.

Then Victoria finished the last star, tied the knot, and snipped the thread, and there was a sudden bright flash of light. Victoria squeaked in surprise, and Hugo turned around. They stared at each other.

"You finished it?" he asked.

Victoria nodded, but couldn't bring herself to say anything. Hugo stood and crossed the room to sit beside her and pull her into his arms.

"What on earth is happening?" she finally asked, her voice shaking.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he replied.

Victoria took a deep breath, and sat up. Mechanically she started to fold the blanket and put her stitching supplies away.

"Should I even give it to Joy? What if it hurts the baby somehow?" she suddenly asked.

Hugo frowned in thought. "Well, the other one didn't," he pointed out.

"But still, we don't know what this is. It could be anything!" Victoria exclaimed, twisting her fingers together.

"Well, not anything. We know it isn't made of uranium or plutonium," Hugo joked.

Victoria glared at him.

Hugo sighed. "Okay, yes, we probably need to be careful. But we also know it could do a lot of good - think how much happier Joy's sister will be if her baby sleeps well. Those first months are rough. I think we'd have given anything for a good night's sleep a few times. And if all she has to do is use a blanket embroidered for her by a friend?"

"I know, but..." Victoria trailed off.

"Why don't we try it ourselves?" Hugo suggested. "We'll take it up and sleep with it tonight, and if anything happens we'll know about it."

Victoria hesitated, and then nodded. "Let's do that."


	4. 1902

Helena was 13 when she did magic for the first time.

She was hiding in her room with her little sister, listening to her parents fight. Her father was accusing her mother of flirting with the mailman. Her mother did flirt with the mailman, possibly without meaning to, but of course Helena's mother denied everything anyway. So they shouted at each other. Helena knew they'd keep at it for a while longer, and then finally decide it was time to sit down for supper and be determinedly civil at each other.

Phoebe whimpered at the shouting and buried her face in Helena's stomach again. Phoebe was only three, and she was supposed to be with their mother, but she'd run away when the fight started.

"Here, Phoebe, play with these," Helena said, setting out a box of ribbons for Phoebe to sort through. Phoebe sat down and started pulling the ribbons out and tying them to her dress.

Helena retreated to the window, keeping an eye on Phoebe to make sure she didn't damage any of the ribbons. She picked up some odds and ends and began arranging them on the wide windowsill - the candle stub for her mother, the torn ribbon for her father, the screw of paper for the milkman, the faded flower for herself in the middle. Burned matches marked the lines between them.

Helena looked down at the design she'd made. Thoughtfully, she moved the match between the candle stub and the paper to be in line with the ribbon. As soon as she set the match down, there was a bright flash of light.

Phoebe looked up, startled, and Helena jumped to hug her before she cried again. Once Phoebe was calm, Helena realized that something had changed: her parents had stopped fighting.

Her mother never flirted with the mailman again.

\---

Helena started collecting cigar boxes when she could. She kept them locked in an old traveling trunk in her bedroom closet. She arranged new designs in them, in the privacy of her room before bed.

She collected odds and ends wherever she saw them. If a dish or glass got smashed, she took some of the pieces. She collected bottle caps and candle stubs and odd rocks and pretty leaves. Sometimes she cut words out of the newspaper. Her mother let her keep scraps of fabric and ribbon and thread from the sewing-basket. And she always collected matchsticks, new or burned, to complete her patterns.

She could not change patterns that involved herself, she learned. She was always in the middle, but never directly affected by her changes. But she could make her schoolteacher fall in love with the nice man who tuned the piano. When one of her schoolmates was being bullied, she could make the bullies leave the girl alone. When she overheard a woman in the park talking about how much she wanted to be an actress, Helena could make sure she got the part.

Helena was a woman who arranged things.


	5. Chapter 3

Victoria and Hugo didn't know whether to be relieved or even more freaked out the next morning when they discovered that nothing in particular had happened. The blanket had stayed more or less in place during the night, and they had both slept as usual, neither better nor worse than any other night. Victoria thought she might have had one bad dream, but nothing out of the ordinary.   
  
They tried sleeping with the blanket several more times, sometimes on top of Hugo, sometimes on top of Victoria, sometimes in between them. They tried it with skin contact. They tried putting it on their pillows. It didn't seem to make a difference.   
  
Finally, Victoria decided they were being silly to worry about it any more, so she fished the blanket with the dragonfly out of her basket, and washed and ironed and packaged both blankets up to give to Joy. After all, the baby would still need something to sleep in. After she'd given the blankets to Joy, she wiped the whole thing from her mind and focused on her work.   
  
Work was quite busy. Elaine, who worked the front desk, had fallen and broken her leg, so Victoria spent a few days filling in for her, trying to do her usual work with her laptop perched in the reception desk. The cocktail hour had been well attended, and Victoria was planning the Fall Gala. The whole town would be invited, and there would be food and music (some of it live) and pony rides and a jumble sale and a display of historical agricultural implements.   
  
And in between the emails and the contracts, she and Maryam continued to chip away at the boxes from Helena Diagio. They had been through a dozen boxes now, but still hadn't found the first editions and the vases they expected. Victoria's list of the contents of the boxes got longer, as did her lists of items thrown away, items to be sold (including a silver and enamel ring with an eight-sided Art Deco design that Victoria had given the museum five dollars for), items to be cleaned and appraised, and items to be left in the boxes until Maryam decided what on Earth to do with them. Privately, Victoria also maintained a list of particularly strange things to have been donated to a museum, currently topped by the half-dozen pine cone wreaths painted in garish colors.    
  
If nothing else, Victoria reflected as she helped photograph and record a small copper kettle of no particular value, the jumble sale at the Fall Gala would be unusually well stocked this year. Next year, too, at the rate they were going.   
  
\---   
  
"How is your sister doing with her new baby?" Victoria asked Joy one Friday afternoon. Victoria had stopped in at the bakery to buy some croissants for breakfast the next morning.   
  
"She's doing well, I think. Three kids is a transition, but she says she takes it one day at a time and it isn't so bad," Joy replied, counting out the correct change.    
  
"Which reminds me that she asked me to thank you again for those blankets," Joy continued as she passed the coins over the counter, "She also wanted to know if you put essential oils or anything on the moon and stars one. Apparently Eryn sleeps so well in that one, Mandy's afraid to wash it!"    
  
Victoria's fingers suddenly felt stiff, and she fumbled the change she'd been handed. Coins clattered and rolled all over the floor, but she barely noticed. Thankfully Joy ran to chase a quarter that had fallen on her side of the counter, and by the time she'd straightened up, Victoria had turned to track down the others.    
  
Finally the coins were collected and Victoria thought she could speak without her voice shaking. "I didn't put anything on either blanket, just washed them like usual," she said, sliding the coins into her coin purse. "I would have told you if I had, come to think of it, since you never know what a baby will be sensitive to. But no, Eryn must just like that one."   
  
If Joy noticed Victoria's sudden tension, she didn't say anything. "Babies are funny that way, aren't they? I remember Addison would only take one pacifier for ages. I was terrified of losing it," she added with a grin.    
  
Victoria grinned back, though it felt stiff and unnatural on her face. "Believe me, I hear you."    
  
Victoria left the store and fumbled for her cell phone.  "Hugo," she said, "we have a problem."    
  
\---   
  
"So it seems like we really might be dealing with actual capital-M Magic," Hugo said as they sat on the couch that evening.    
  
They'd agreed that they weren't going to freak out, and they weren't going to discuss it in front of the kids. They had pretended to forget about the whole issue while helping with homework and talking to Ethan about his nightmares (he'd been having a string of bad nights, and they hoped that talking about his fears would help) and eating dinner and washing up. Hugo had opened a bottle of wine with dinner, and now he poured them both a second glass.    
  
"I guess. But why did it affect little Eryn when it didn't affect us? How is this even possible? Why is this happening now? I've been making blankets and things for ages, and it's never happened before," fretted Victoria. She took the glass Hugo offered her, holding it tightly in tense fingers.    
  
"I don't know. Are you menopausal?" Hugo asked after a moment.    
  
Victoria glared at him.    
  
Hugo shrugged. "I'm just thinking about the stories I've read with magic in them. Lots of times it first manifests at a significant time, usually puberty. So I figured..."   
  
"I'm only forty, which would be pretty early for menopause. I haven't noticed anything," Victoria replied tartly. "And that's fiction; I don't see why it would be relevant."   
  
Hugo sipped his wine and slung his arm around her shoulders. "I have to start somewhere, sweetheart, and fiction is useful for exploring possibilities. Besides, it's possible that some of them aren't as fictional as they're advertised to be. They say there's frequently a grain of truth behind old myths, and if magic is real it might be more than a grain."   
  
Victoria sighed and sipped her wine. She let herself relax against her husband. "I don't think I'm menopausal. I can't think of any recent traumas or weird encounters, though if we're talking about something that happened before I made the blankets for Katie Law, I may have forgotten something. It all seems pretty inexplicable to me."   
  
"Me too," Hugo agreed. "Well, maybe we can solve the smaller question: why did it affect the baby and not us?"   
  
"Maybe it only works on babies?" Victoria offered.   
  
"Maybe. Maybe it's like medication and you need more for larger people. Or maybe you can't use it on yourself. Or maybe it's intent-based and only works on the person you make it for," Hugo speculated.    
  
"We really don't have any information, do we?" asked Victoria.    
  
"Not nearly enough," Hugo agreed. "We could experiment more. You could make one for Ethan, see if it clears up his nightmares," he proposed after a minute.    
  
"I'm not experimenting on my own son!" Victoria exclaimed, leaning forward to put her wine glass down. "I should call Mandy and Katie and get the blankets back. We have no idea what it could be doing to those babies?"    
  
"I doubt it'll work. What on earth would you tell them?" Hugo pointed out.    
  
"I don't know...maybe I could tell them there was a recall. They found lead in the muslin or something," Victoria said.    
  
"Probably still wouldn't work, since Joy buys cloth from same place."   
  
"True." Victoria slumped dejectedly on the couch.    
  
"What we need," Hugo said thoughtfully, "is more information."    
  
"We can't use something we don't understand on children," said Victoria, resolutely.    
  
"I know that. I was thinking about the internet," Hugo explained.    
  
"I'm pretty sure the internet is mostly full of crazy people.”    
  
"Sure, but it seems to me there must be something. It's highly unlikely that you're the only person who can do this, and if there's other people out there then they've probably put things on the internet. We just have to find them," said Hugo. He sat forward on the couch and took a sip of wine.   
  
Suddenly he frowned. "On second thought, that may not be a good idea," he said.   
  
"Why not?"   
  
He leaned back and looked at her. "You've seen as many movies as I have. Who knows what we might find?" he said.   
  
Victoria picked up her wine glass, fiddling with the stem. "People who might want to take advantage of it, or something like that. You have a point," she said.   
  
Hugo got up and paced in front of the couch. "The way I see it, there's several possibilities. There could be people who want to harm you, either other magic users or powerful people without magic who may or may not be part of the government. There could be a community of people who don't particularly want to harm you but are narrow-minded or arrogant or otherwise unpleasant people. There could be a community of people who are friendly and helpful and might be willing to give you useful advice." He paused a moment, then added, "Or quite possibly all of the above. We are talking about humans, after all."   
  
"From that analysis, we're better off not looking. The first scenario makes it dangerous to look, the second is unpleasant, the third is nice enough but not enough to outweigh the danger," Victoria put in.   
  
"True. Though it is possible that there are rules or consequences we need to know about - either something about magic that's inherently dangerous, or established rules that we don't want to break by accident," Hugo replied.   
  
Victoria sighed and sat back on the couch. "In which case we're right back where we started."   
  
Hugo came and sat next to her. "Well, I guess we won't do anything for now. We'll think about it."   
  
Victoria nodded. "I think I'll stick to tea towels for now. Or maybe stop embroidering entirely. I could try knitting, maybe."   
  
"As much as I hate to say it, that might be wise. Just until we know what's going on," Hugo agreed.   
  
\---   
  
They slept poorly that night. In addition to their own worried thoughts and disturbed dreams, Ethan woke up with a nightmare and had to be comforted.   
  
Victoria woke up before her alarm went off. It was clearly a waste of time to try to get back to sleep, but she didn't want to get up yet either. She lay in bed, thinking.   
  
There were just too many possibilities. She almost wished Hugo hadn't brought up fiction as a source of potential information; it raised too many ideas, all of them contradictory. She had only had good thoughts towards the babies while she made the blankets, which she thought made it likely that they wouldn't hurt the babies. But she couldn't be sure.   
  
She couldn't experiment without having any idea what the consequences might be. Using magic on the children was out of the question. Using magic on herself or Hugo was at least less blatantly unethical, but that didn't make it a good idea. If something went wrong, they would have no idea what to do.   
  
She was tempted to say that was the end of it, that she'd never do it again and they would never know. But she didn't really know if she could stop. She hadn't intentionally done it in the first place, so she had no real way of not doing it. She could give up embroidery or stick to things other than blankets, but who knew what would happen? Maybe it would happen some other way. She might start accidentally writing magical emails, for all she knew, and then they'd be stuck.    
  
She also didn't know what would happen if she tried to stop. Some stories had magic or superpowers that reacted badly if people suppressed them. What if it damaged her brain, or made her sick, or drained her life force?    
  
What if using the magic drained her life force?    
  
She turned over to lie on her side. They desperately needed to know more than they did. The internet seemed too dangerous. Perhaps the library had something. She didn't want to put in requests, which could also be traced, but perhaps she could browse? She also had access to some books at the museum, too. It wouldn't hurt to check.   
  
Hugo rolled over, and she saw that he was awake. They smiled at each other, and sighed.   
  
"You too, huh?" she asked softly.   
  
Hugo rose up on one elbow so he could reach out to pull her close against his body. "Me too," he agreed, and kissed her.   
  
They lay in silence, taking comfort from each other's presence.   
  
"I was thinking I might check the library," Victoria said eventually.   
  
"It can't hurt, I suppose," Hugo replied.   
  
"Mmm. I can just see the librarian's face when I ask her to cross-reference magic and sleep and embroidery," Victoria said sardonically.   
  
Hugo chuckled. "Though we probably shouldn't narrow it down too much. There may be more than one type of magic out there."   
  
"Sure. I was actually thinking of starting with biographies, or maybe mythology. Or Wicca, but I've read a little about Wicca and this doesn't seem like what I read."   
  
"The history of Wicca might still have something," Hugo suggested.   
  
The alarm went off, and Hugo turned to hit the button to turn it off. "Time to get up," he said.   
  
"Mmmm. Five more minutes?" Victoria asked, snuggling closer.   
  
Hugo's free arm came around her. "Five more minutes," he agreed.   
  
\---   
  
Victoria did not get to the library that day, as Maryam wanted to work on the Diagio collection some more and they were in the basement so long that Victoria was almost late to meet Grace and Ethan's bus.   
  
The box they had opened had mostly contained mismatched china. Victoria spent quite a long time photographing the various plates and dishes and looking online to identify the patterns. A few pieces were rather nice Lennox designs, and she added a note that they might fetch a better price if sold online to collectors.   
  
At the bottom of the box, mixed with chips from a pink-painted bowl that had broken, was an old handwritten book with a stylized compass rose on the cover.   
  
"What's that?" Victoria asked, standing up and walking over to peer over Maryam's shoulder.   
  
Maryam turned a few pages. "An old journal, maybe. This page looks like a recipe, so it might be a household book."   
  
The next page had a watercolor sketch of a frog with butterfly wings.   
  
"Perhaps not a household book," chuckled Victoria.   
  
"That does seem less likely," Maryam agreed, tracing the butterfly wings with one finger.   
  
"It looks rather interesting. Would you mind if I took a look at it at some point?" Victoria asked.   
  
"Of course. Feel free to bring it upstairs, if you like. It doesn't seem very fragile," Maryam replied.   
  
Maryam shut the book and they photographed and recorded it. Victoria put it on her laptop bag, to take upstairs.   
  
At the end of the day, Victoria opened the book briefly when she put it on her desk. The second page did seem to be a recipe for chicken soup. She shut the book again, uncertain why she was looking at it at all. She wasn't sure why she'd asked to look at it, except that it was an old and odd book and she'd been thinking about odd books.   
  
Victoria put on her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She'd have to hurry to be home before the kids.   
  
Victoria was almost finished making dinner when Hugo came in. She went to greet him at the door, and found him carrying a cardboard box.   
  
Hugo kissed her and stepped through the entryway to place the box in the living room. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, turning to take off his coat and gloves, "I've had an idea."    
  



	6. 1904

Helena was fifteen when she realized that messing with other people's lives was a terrible thing to do.   
  
Her father had bought each of H. G. Wells's novels when they were published, and that summer Helena picked them up. _The Time Machine_ was fascinating, but _The Island of Dr. Moreau_ was horrifying. She suddenly realized what she had done.   
  
Helena rushed to her bedroom, pulled out her collection of cigar boxes, and stared at them in horror. What had she done? She'd thought herself so wise, but she was only a girl. What on earth was she to do?   
  
Her first instinct was to destroy them, to throw them in the trash or on the fire. But she'd never destroyed one before. After she'd made the first one, the one that had stopped her parents from fighting, she'd almost thrown the pieces away. But then she'd had an awful thought: if the magic thought the candle stub was her mother, what would happen if she threw it away? So she'd carefully packed it into a cigar box, and she'd kept it. She couldn't destroy them now.   
  
As she looked at them, she realized she couldn't even put them back the way they were. Her schoolteacher had married the nice man who tuned the piano, and they had a baby on the way. What would happen if she changed the pattern now?   
  
It was best to leave things as they were. She carefully packed the cigar boxes up, with a layer of felt or cotton wool in each one to keep the pieces from moving, placed them back in the old traveling trunk, and locked it. She would never make patterns again.    



	7. Chapter 4

"You said you had an idea?" Victoria asked as Hugo came down the stairs later that night. They hadn't been able to talk in front of the children, naturally, so they had once again put off their discussion until after Grace and Ethan were in bed.   
  
"I did," said Hugo, kissing her briefly before moving over to unpack the cardboard box he'd brought home. He opened it and pulled out an old laptop.   
  
"We do have a computer," Victoria commented, sitting on the couch to watch him.   
  
"I was browsing Reddit during my lunch break," Hugo began, plugging the laptop in and pulling out a thumb drive, "and I came across a thread from a subreddit called r/DarkNetMarkets. It's a subreddit for discussing ways and means of buying drugs and other illicit products on the internet."   
  
Victoria looked at him and raised one eyebrow. "I thought we were trying to not get on any government watch lists?"   
  
Hugo grinned. "Hey, it's not illegal to read if you're not buying. Anyway, it's really a very interesting subculture."   
  
"I'm sure it is."   
  
"The point is, they were discussing the best ways to keep from ending up on watch lists and things. I read through a few threads and it really doesn't look very difficult. You get a separate computer, you set it up with a Linux distro called Tails that's designed for privacy, and you use Tor or a VPN anonymizer for your browsing, and that way no one can trace you," Hugo explained. He watched the laptop screen intently as it started the setup.   
  
Victoria blinked at Hugo's enthusiasm. "I think I understood most of that. So once you have it set up, I can just search on it like usual?"   
  
Hugo looked up. "Well, not quite like usual - you should really take it to the library or a cafe, someplace with public wifi. And you can't sign in to any accounts anywhere. But yeah, it should be just like any other computer."   
  
Victoria frowned. "Of course, they still might have magic ways of finding it that we can't guard against."   
  
"True, but by the same logic they may have ways of finding you anyway, by sensing the blankets or something. We have to do something."   
  
Victoria nodded. They had to do something.   
  
She leaned back against the couch. It would be nice to have something to do with her hands, but embroidery was out of the question and she couldn't think of anything else for the moment. "So where did you get the laptop?" she asked.   
  
"Lance from the office mentioned the other day that he was upgrading, so I asked if he had plans for the old one. Bought it off him," Hugo answered.   
  
"I'm not sure where to start looking," she confessed. "I'm pretty sure a simple keyword search won't work."   
  
"Yeah, it'll take some digging. Might be wise to spend time reading forums and reddit and other social places. Secret places are often word of mouth," Hugo suggested.   
  
The laptop beeped and Hugo bent over it, muttering under his breath. Victoria got up to go make tea.   
  
\---   
  
The Fall Gala was that weekend, and for the next three days Victoria forgot entirely about the magic and the secret laptop and the odd book from Helena Diagio in the rush to get everything done. She and Maryam worked longer hours than usual, and even Elaine stayed after the museum had closed to pitch in.    
  
The Saturday of the Fall Gala was crisp and clear. Victoria collected the attendees who had signed up for the first guided tour of the museum and delivered them to Maryam, then turned to make a circuit outside and check on the festivities.    
  
She waved to Joy, who was doing a brisk business selling cookies and doughnuts to the crowd. The booth next to her, in which Andy Lee was selling barbecue and sandwiches, was also very popular.    
  
The local farmer who did pony rides every year had one of his ponies get injured, so he and his wife had brought a pony and a horse to give rides to the children. If anything, it was proving more popular than usual, especially since the occasional adult could take a ride. Victoria saw Grace and Ethan waiting in line, and stopped to hug them both before moving on.   
  
The jumble sale needed more small bills, so she turned to go back inside. On her way, she ran into Aron Finch, the museum's lawyer.    
  
"Victoria! I wanted to introduce you to my father," said Aron, shaking hands with her.    
  
Victoria collected herself and turned to smile at the older gentleman with him. "Mr. Finch, I presume?" she asked, holding out her hand.    
  
"Ebenezer Finch, but do call me Ezer," he replied, taking her hand in a warm grasp. He looked to be in his mid-seventies, but he was clearly still strong and sharp.    
  
"I've been rather fascinated by that bequest and donation you called us about some time ago, since hearing the story from my father. Have you made much progress finding out what it all is?" Aron asked.    
  
"Well, we're chipping away at it. She seems to have been a remarkable lady. Quite a lot of it isn't useful to us - actually, quite a lot of it is in the jumble sale this year, you should check it out - but we've come across a number of things of interest," Victoria replied.   
  
"Splendid! I did hope someone would get use out of it, to spite that arrogant so-and-so if nothing else," said Ezer.   
  
Victoria turned to him. "The nephew? I've been wondering what he was like. Donating everything like that seems like such an odd thing to do. Did you ever meet him?"   
  
"I only met him once, but I didn't like him. His name was Jim, Jim Fairbody. He was quite rude, and he didn't seem to care that the Browning Museum might not have the space or the people to handle all that junk. And he was restless the whole time; kept looking at his watch or the clock. I only have the one clock in my office, but the way he kept glancing up, I felt I was surrounded by clocks," replied Ezer.   
  
"Well, we will survive despite his rudeness," Victoria said, smiling. "Actually, we'll probably put some of the things on display at some point, and it would be polite to let him know if we can. Do you know if you have his address?"   
  
"I could send a letter to the lawyer who handled Helena Diagio's will and see if they have it, if you like. Assuming he's still alive, of course. It was forty years ago, after all," suggested Aron.   
  
"Thank you, that would be very helpful. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to step inside for something. It was lovely to meet you, Ezer," said Victoria, shaking hands one more time and turning to go.   
  
The Fall Gala was a success. It lasted well into the evening, and when Victoria finally got home, she was exhausted. Hugo had put Grace and Ethan to bed already, so he and Victoria drank a cup of tea and watched an episode of Fawlty Towers on Netflix, and then went to bed.   
  
\---   
  
The next morning Victoria slept in. It was Sunday, and she and Maryam had decided to take Monday off as well, since they had been working on Saturday.   
  
When she finally got up, she found that Grace and Ethan had gone to friends' houses, and Hugo was sitting on the couch with the beat up laptop on his lap.   
  
"The tea in the pot should still be warm, and I got croissants from Joy on the way home last night," he commented as she came down the stairs.   
  
"Joy had croissants at the gala?" Victoria asked, confused.   
  
"No, but she told me her husband was planning to open the shop for a few hours, so I stopped by," Hugo explained.   
  
"Oh. Okay. Thank you," said Victoria, and went into the kitchen.   
  
She brought her breakfast back to eat on the couch next to Hugo. "Is it working?" she asked, gesturing to the laptop.   
  
"I think we're up and running," Hugo replied. "I thought once you ate we could go find someplace to start looking."   
  
\---   
  
They found a coffee shop with actual couches, ordered drinks, and settled in. Hugo pulled out his phone to flip through the news. The Sunday rush meant the wifi wasn't as fast as they might have liked, and the laptop's age didn't help, but for basic browsing it worked fine.   
  
Victoria started on Reddit. At first she was puzzled to only find subreddits dedicated to either Magic: The Gathering (and who knew there was a MTG Finance subreddit?) or to performance magic such as card tricks. After some experimenting she discovered that the people who actually claimed to be influencing reality spelled it magick with a k, and that simplified matters.   
  
So she read. Much of what she read seemed nonsensical. Some of it was frightening. Some of it was genuinely mysterious, and she didn't always know what to make of it. She noted down links to other resources and forums as she found them.   
  
Eventually Hugo got up to use the bathroom and get them new drinks. "Any luck?" he asked as he sat down.   
  
"Hard to say," Victoria replied, stretching her arms and back. She hadn't realized how long she'd been sitting in one position. "So far none of it looks right to me, but it's hard to tell."   
  
Hugo nodded. "Are you okay? You look a little unsettled."   
  
Victoria nodded uncertainly. "I think so. Some of this...I don't know how to describe it. It almost leaves me feeling sticky after I read it. It's very odd. But not the good kind of odd."   
  
Hugo wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "You should probably trust your instincts there," he said.   
  
Victoria lifted her face to kiss him, and pushed away the laptop. “I think I'll take a break for a bit. Anything interesting in your reading?” 

“A woman in Colorado is claiming her spirit animal saw JFK die.” Hugo smirked. 

Victoria chuckled, then became sober. “I wonder if any of that stuff is true? I mean, if magic is real, maybe she really did see JFK die. Or there might be real spirit animals.” 

“I suppose that's possible,” replied Hugo. “You'll have to ask around. In the meantime, the news is about normal. The current tax proposal might not go through, a congressman is being accused of fraud, the usual. There's a lot of hype about a new initiative they're working on to get special educational centers into under-privileged communities, so that sounds good. They're calling it the Pyramid Foundation.”

“As long as it isn't a pyramid scheme,” Victoria joked. 

Hugo laughed. “Let's hope not.” 

Victoria kissed Hugo again and turned back to the laptop. She started pulling up the other forums and websites she'd noticed earlier, skimming pages and reading threads that looked interesting. There were even a few mentions of embroidered cloths on one website, but the rituals described didn't sound like what she'd experienced.   
  
An hour later, Victoria turned to her husband, suddenly excited. "I think I found it!"    
  
Hugo looked up from his book. "Really? That was faster than I expected," he said, leaning over to see the screen.    
  
Victoria clicked back a few pages to an article on a different website. She pointed to the ads in the sidebar. "Well, I was browsing, and I kept seeing the same half dozen ads on different sites. Roses and Fae, The Crystal Palace, the same sort of stuff. But then there's this one," she said, pointing to a small square at the bottom.    
  
The ad was black, with bright yellow text in Comic Sans. The text was too small, so Hugo leaned closer to read it. The ad was for "Flash of Light Magic Supplies."   
  
"That's a truly terrible ad," Hugo commented.   
  
"It is. It's so bad, especially compared to the others, that I wondered if it was deliberate. That's when I discovered this," said Victoria, moving the mouse to hover over the ad.   
  
The ad flashed suddenly, giving off a flash of light that was very similar to the one they'd seen when Victoria finished the blankets. Once the light went away, the ad changed to read "Straight Line Magic Supplies" in the same unreadable font.   
  
"That's a lot of effort to put into a terrible ad," Hugo commented with satisfaction. "It's clever of them. So what's on the website?"   
  
Victoria clicked through. "The front page looks like any other magick supply store. They sell fancy papers and inks and candles and stones and things. Or at least that's what's on the product pages; I haven't actually tried to buy anything, so for all I know it doesn't actually work."   
  
She clicked a tab at the top of the page. "But here there's a discussion forum. And look at this," she said, clicking on the large "So You've Done Magic."   
  
"Welcome, stranger," the article read. "You are here because you've done something you do every day - some minor innocuous action - and you saw a flash of light just like the one on our advertisement. You are here because you can do magic. And we're here to tell you: don't panic. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tor, Tails, and the various subreddits mentioned are all real. Some of them are very interesting.


	8. February

Grace slowly blew out a breath. She'd been keeping a journal for a month now, and she still hadn't figured out what her magic did.

It was easy enough to get the flash of light that indicated a charm had formed. Almost any full-page abstract pattern worked, though fractal-based patterns worked most reliably. She doodled plants and animals during meetings now, or sketched her colleagues, or sometimes started pattern doodles but carefully waited until she was safely in her office, where the flash of light was less likely to be noticed, before finishing the design. She'd tried leaving designs unfinished, but she found that bothersome. She was used to completing things when she had started them, and leaving a design unfinished gave her an itchy feeling. So she found ways to finish in private. 

But nothing seemed to change when she completed them. She was beginning to get nervous that the effects of her magic happened somewhere else entirely, in some unrelated place where she would never see them. She remembered seeing a movie once where a woman in New York accidentally made a monster appear in South Korea, and did colossal amounts of damage before she figured it out. Grace didn't want to hurt people without ever knowing it.

So she had finally concluded that she should look at the Charm Renegade website. Their notion of a polite introduction was a little lacking, but they probably did have useful information. She didn't have to talk to anyone, after all. 

The information was useful. Grace vaguely remembered some of it from her mother's explanation: internal, external, and knowing categories of magic definitely sounded familiar. But plenty of the content was entirely new: helpful tips for research and meditation, discussions of magic-related ethics, various theories about the underlying systems of the designs used, and a list of known magic gifts.

Grace skimmed through the list, noting that her mother's sleep charms were listed, though not with her mother's name. It said that the sleep charms did not compel sleep (which Grace herself remembered) except for one instance when one had, for unknown reasons. Perhaps her dad had fallen asleep at work by accident - Grace remembered her mother had embroidered accents on her father's boxers. It had always made it easier to tell his from Ethan's when it was Grace's turn to fold the laundry. 

Finally, at the bottom of the list, was a note for people like her: "Still not sure what your gift is? Sometimes a gift is subtle enough to make it difficult to spot. Taking photographs of your surroundings before and after you complete a charm may help. If you can't spot anything, your charm may just release an unformed burst of magical energy. Such bursts strengthen or expand other charms, but don't accomplish much on their own. If that's the case, keep experimenting: strengthening bursts are frequently paired with another magic gift. Feel free to join us in the forum for more ideas and brainstorming!"

Unformed bursts of energy. That was a real possibility. It felt right, somehow. Grace would try taking photos of her office, but she had a feeling that all she had produced so far was those bursts of energy. She felt relieved; she didn't have to worry about summoning monsters in South Korea, and she didn't even have to worry about the ethical quandaries faced by more powerful magic-users. She could just ignore her magic.


	9. Chapter 5

That evening found Hugo and Victoria in the family room, where the television was, instead of the living room. Hugo was sitting on the jungle-patterned futon to watch the football game. Victoria had brought the laptop in and settled next to him, reading the articles from Straight Line Magic. Rather than spend even more hours sitting in the cafe, they had saved everything that looked interesting to a flash drive to read later.

"How is it?" Hugo finally asked, muting the first commercial.

Victoria smiled. "Quite a relief, really. I'm just reading the introductory articles at this point, but apparently there's nothing to worry about. The writer says magic is based on intent, so I won't harm anyone without meaning to. It also says people with magic have an inborn sense of the best and wisest use of their magic." She paused, then added, "Though I admit I'm a little skeptical about that part. The writer seems to be implying that people with magic should feel free to mess with other people's lives, because 'they know best' and can make decisions for them. So he's possibly not entirely trustworthy."

"Still, it sounds like you don't have to try and get the blankets back."

Victoria frowned in thought. "I'm still a little concerned about those. Even sleep could be a problem, say if the baby slept through a serious sickness or allergic reaction."

"If it's based on intent, I doubt it's a problem. But why don't we do some experiments? Now that we know a little more, it sounds like you could make one for me," Hugo suggested.

"That's true. The website says most people with magic have to make each charm - they're called charms, whatever form they take - for a specific person. It's possible that Mandy and Katie will be able to use the blankets on any future babies, since the babies weren't named when I made them and I was thinking about 'Mandy's baby' and 'Katie's baby,' but that's not certain and the blankets definitely won't work on any other unrelated babies. Well, the charm won't work, obviously the blanket is still a blanket," Victoria explained.

"Good to know."

“I'm a magic-user, and what I do to make charms is called my magic gift. Almost all magic is made by making a design or diagram or pattern of some sort, which is why the website it called Straight Line Magic. Gifts usually fall into one of three categories: internal gifts only work on the magic-user himself or herself, external gifts work on a target, and knowing gifts give the magic-user insight or knowledge he or she wouldn't normally have. Oh, and there's a fourth kind that can amplify or change other magic-users’ gifts, but that's pretty rare. Rarer, really, since it sounds like magic is pretty rare to start with.”

“No spirit animals?”

Victoria smiled. “Doesn't sound like it, though I suppose someone with the knowledge gift could see something like JFK’s death. It sounds like those gifts usually aren't easy to control, though.”

“So I guess your gift is external, if it worked on the babies. Does that mean you can't make one for yourself?”

Victoria scrolled back and re-read the relevant section. “It sounds like it varies a bit. They might not work on me at all, or they might work on me but not as well as usual.”

She read a bit farther. “Also, apparently I make intent-based magic, not image-based magic. Some people find their gifts are really dependent on the design they make, for others it doesn't matter (or they make the same one every time) but their intentions and focus is the important part. Since I used two different designs, I guess it doesn't matter.”

“Like meditation. Explains why you feel so weird when you finish a charm.”

"Yes. I've also been reading the introduction thread and it's really interesting. People make charms all sorts of ways: drawing pictures, walking in patterns, henna tattoos, anything that can make a design. There's one person who arranges leaves and flowers in circles to make mandala designs."

"Really? I'm guessing that's not a sleep charm."

"No, she says it mostly just keeps pests out of her garden and helps the plants grow, but once she made the wind change direction."

"On purpose?" Hugo cocked an eyebrow.

Victoria shrugged. "She says it stopped a wildfire from spreading. She gave the date and I looked up the news at the time and there really was a California wildfire that died down after the prevailing winds shifted and it started to rain. I suppose it could have been coincidence, but that's quite a coincidence."

"Wow. That's impressive."

"Yeah, it took a lot of work on her part. She knew she wouldn't manage a big shift, so she studied the radar maps in the area and found a place where a small shift would have the biggest impact. Even so, I get the impression that it was a huge effort for her. It took a lot of power."

"Do they say how the power thing works? I hadn't noticed you working especially hard while you worked on the blankets," Hugo asked.

Victoria turned back the the laptop. "There was something....oh, here it is." She read quietly for a few minutes. "Looks like it's usually a matter of focus and emotion. Some people practice meditation to help make their magic stronger." She scrolled down a bit. "And some people find that certain designs are stronger than others. The design thing is interesting: some people use different designs to get different effects, some use different designs for more power, some don't notice a difference. There's a lexicon of motifs for registered members, but I sort of get the impression that whoever runs it wants the motifs to be more effective than they really are. I saw a couple of jokes about his romantic ideals."

"We'll have to think about whether to register," Hugo said.

"Yes. I can test different designs without the lexicon, but I might want to participate in the forum or talk to some of the individuals. And I think there's parts of the forums that aren't visible to non-members."

The game resumed and Hugo turned back to the television. Victoria read on.

\---

Victoria used her time off on Monday to go back to the cafe and get a feel for the main posters on the discussion forum itself.

The website was run by someone with the username TheJeff, who constantly made sweeping dogmatic statements and tended to bully and insult anyone who disagreed with him. Victoria was rather surprised that the community had developed as well as it had with someone so thuggish in charge, but she supposed that the magic community was so small that they had to take what they had. And his articles had been well-written, even if they did make her uneasy. Still, she made a note to keep an eye out for other websites, especially if he was in the habit of banning users. TheJeff said he was a teleporter, who could dance in a certain pattern and find himself at any location on Earth, which made Victoria gladder than ever that Hugo had secured her privacy.

The other moderator was Snowleopard, who signed himself George F. He seemed polite enough, though not always enthusiastic about supporting newcomers who were confused or upset. Still, he was a competent moderator and he appeared capable of putting up with TheJeff. Snowleopard could change the colors of things by drawing on a steamed-up mirror or window.

But then there was GRenegade, who could send messages using ASCII art and also had participated in several threads helping newbies figure out how they could safely experiment with their new-found powers, and Sketchbooker, who hadn’t said what she could do on any of the threads Victoria had read but was clearly friendly and welcoming.

There were others on her list, but Victoria thought those two were the most likely to be helpful. She tapped her notes thoughtfully.

She'd noticed that TheJeff seemed to be most active during the late evenings. She couldn't just reach out to GRenegade and Sketchbooker, but maybe she could introduce herself at a time they were likely to be active. She'd have to talk with Hugo about how much to say about herself on the forum.

She turned back to the laptop to flip through the threads and note users' active periods.

\---

After meeting Hugo near his work for lunch and conversation, Victoria took her laptop to the local library. The cafe was pleasant, but she needed a change of pace.

The library was mostly empty, and she found a comfortable chair in the corner near the periodicals. There was a story time going on in the children's section, but otherwise the library was quiet, which was a pleasant change from the piped-in music at the cafe.

Hugo had pointed out that she needed a username that did not give any clues about who she was, and after some brainstorming she'd settled on SleepyBug. She created an email account first, and then registered at Straight Line Magic.

Victoria took a deep breath, and posted her introduction.

"Hi, I'm SleepyBug. I'm new here. I just discovered I can do magic a little while ago. I like to embroider, and I made a few blankets for friends who were pregnant, and the blankets help their babies sleep. I haven't really tried anything else yet."

Once it was up, Victoria found herself staring at the screen, clicking back and forth to see if anyone had viewed the thread or replied yet. After a few repetitions, she realized this was ridiculous and got up to find a book to read.

Thankfully, the wait wasn't too long. After a few minutes she refreshed the page and found a few replies.

NonnaMouse: "Hi! I'm new here too. Were you totally freaked out at first? I sure was! I was fidgeting with paper clips at work, and suddenly there was a flash of light and a mouse came out and sat on my desk! They seem to be quite tame, I really like them. They're such good company when I'm stuck on hold!"

Sketchbooker: "Welcome, SleepyBug! I've been here a while, and it's a very helpful community. Feel free to ask if you have any questions!"

Victoria typed out her reply: "NonnaMouse - I was definitely surprised! Actually I'm so relieved to find this website, since I was worried that I might be hurting the babies who got the blankets.

"Sketchbooker - thanks for the welcome! What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sketchbooker replied very quickly: "I draw things (jewelry, furniture, clothes sometimes) and I end up drawing significant things that happened on or with that object. Recently I was at an estate sale and I drew a necklace, and my final drawing was of a man presenting it to his wife with their new baby - I think probably he was the original owner, and he commissioned it for his wife as a present for their first child's birth."

Victoria wished she could invite Sketchbooker to the museum, to see what she drew around the items they had on display. Maybe someday, if she turned out to be friendly. She replied: "That's amazing! Could you post one? I'd love to see it! That sounds really useful - you could help with research, or provide backstory for museums or auctions. Though I guess there's no way to explain how you drew it, so that won't work.

Sketchbooker answered almost immediately this time: "I'll post a few at some point. It's actually not as useful as it might be. The faces tend to be indistinct, for one thing, and for another I can't control what sort of moments I draw. I don't even draw antique tables anymore - either I get a handful of people standing around it, or I get two or more people having sex on it! If the former, I can't tell who the people are or what they're talking about, and if the latter, I don't want to know!"

Victoria hadn't considered that, but it still sounded fascinating. She was about to reply when GRenegade posted to her thread: "Hi SleepyBug! I'm glad you found us! The babies should be fine - basic charms rarely have any side effects. Have you tried making one for any adults? Have you tried making charms for anything besides sleep?"

Victoria answered: "Hi, GRenegade! I'm so glad to have that confirmed. I haven't tried making any others besides those two blankets - I was too worried about what would happen! If I hadn't found this site I would have gotten those blankets back from my friends too, just in case. I haven't tried for any effects other than sleep - how would I go about that?"

GRenegade replied: "Depends on the person, of course, but the most common ways are to change the focus of your meditation (intent-based magic), or to change the design of your charm (pattern-based or sigil-based magic). There's a lexicon on this website that you can refer to for ideas, but most people find they get better results if they rely on their own instincts."

Sketchbooker put in: "And you may not be able to. Plenty of people only have one or two magics, so don't worry about it."

Victoria posted: "Thanks, I'll have to try the focus thing. I doubt the design matters, since the first blanket was a dragonfly and the second was moon and stars."

At this point, TheJeff had apparently arrived. He posted: "GRenegade, you're very helpful, but the lexicon here is the best starting place for experimenting. You really shouldn't encourage people to deviate from the excellent images we have."

Well, that was true to form. Victoria rolled her eyes. It did remind her, though: "Your lexicon looks great, and the articles here have been really helpful. Are there any other resources I should be aware of? Or other places to meet people?"

PurlGirl posted: "The lexicon is great! I knit my charms, and mostly they control temperature, but I've been turning the images into knitting patterns and it's going great!"

But, almost at the same moment, TheJeff posted again: "This forum is not for disloyal people to discuss other websites! I am locking this thread down immediately!"

Victoria reloaded the page and saw that the thread was indeed locked. She pressed her lips together. She'd known that TheJeff was a bully, but that didn't make it any easier to tolerate when it was directed at her.

Still, she'd gotten some useful information. She was about to close her laptop and go home for the day when a new window suddenly popped up on the screen, without Victoria doing anything.

> "https://www.charmrenegade.onion/  
>  -GRenegade"


	10. 1909

When Helena was twenty, she went to an art exhibition arranged by her college. The paintings were lovely, but one landscape caught her attention.

She drew closer, studying the familiar pattern of lines in the field of wheat. Surely it was just a coincidence? She raised her hand to the painting, stopping herself before she actually touched it. The tingle under her fingertips was also familiar. The painting had magic. 

She noted the painter's name and left immediately for the library. Someone else who could do magic! She raced in and checked the card catalog for Herbert, John Rogers.

The library had a biography about him, with colored plates of his paintings. As she opened it, a card fell out. She picked it up and turned it over. 

> Here for Laborare est Orare?  
>  Send twenty cents and a self-addressed stamped envelope to  
>  Straight Line Magic  
>  203A Walnut St  
>  Philadelphia, PA

Helena gasped and tucked the card into her purse. Someone else with magic. Someone to talk to. She couldn't wait.


	11. Chapter 6

Victoria immediately called Hugo and told him about GRenegade's mysterious note.   
  
"Well, the link is what's called an 'onion site' which means you can use Tor to access it. I installed Tor on that laptop already, just in case, so that's convenient. I admit the mysterious appearing note is a little creepy," Hugo said, after listening to Victoria's explanation.    
  
"Can he hack my computer that way? Or track it?" Victoria asked.    
  
Hugo hummed thoughtfully to himself. "In order to deliver a note like that through mundane means, he'd have to take remote control of your laptop. This is clearly magic, though, and it works differently. I have no real way of knowing what he can and can't do."   
  
"He didn't seem creepy or pushy in the forum," Victoria began, but then another message popped up on her screen.    
  
"Okay, I'm sorry about these messages. I know it's a little creepy, but as you saw, TheJeff doesn't really let people talk about certain things. You'll need a program called Tor to get to the link I sent before, I'm working on a way to help you install it. -GRenegade'"   
  
She read the message aloud to Hugo.    
  
"You might as well follow the link," Hugo finally concluded. "He clearly wants to talk to you."    
  
"Okay," Victoria replied. "I'll call you again to let you know how it went. Love you."    
  
"Love you too," he replied, and they hung up.    
  
Victoria took a deep breath and clicked on GRenegade's link.    
  
Once Tor had started up, Victoria found herself looking at a sparse gray-and-white website, divided into three columns. The right-hand column had a text box at the bottom, clearly made for chatting, and the other columns were grayed out.    
  
"Hello?" she typed.    
  
Nothing happened for a minute, and then the reply came: "SleepyBug? Wow, well done. Took me six hours to get Sketchbooker set up. Hang on while I get you set up."   
  
Victoria waited, and after a few minutes her username appeared at the top of the screen, and the columns which had been grayed out cleared. The right-hand column was now labeled as a conversation between SleepyBug and GRenegade, and the wider column in the middle seemed to be an ongoing conversation between several people. The left-hand column had tabs labeled "Articles," "Friends," and "Gallery." She leaned forward to type.    
  
SleepyBug: so what is this place? 

  
GRenegade: this is the site I maintain for magic-users to talk. I've been sort of scooping up people who might clash with TheJeff and inviting them here. 

  
SleepyBug: so why me? 

  
GRenegade: you have interesting magic, you actually considered the possibility that magic could be harmful (which is rarer than you'd think), and you asked about other resources. And I want to introduce you to someone, but she's not here right now. 

  
SleepyBug: who is she? 

  
GRenegade: her username is SouthernJaya, and she creates rangoli (have you heard of them? Beautiful temporary designs made on the floor, they're traditional in India) that make people think clearly. She joined the Straight Line forum a couple of years ago and got banned almost immediately, it was very odd. But she's nice and very smart. She's been saying for ages that her charms would work better if she could make them get a good night's sleep as well 

  
SleepyBug: that sounds useful, though I don't know if my charms can actually force someone to sleep. 

  
GRenegade: right, you haven't experimented much. Do you need help on where to get started? I can tell you that you should definitely write down everything you try, and try to include things like the weather and time of day that don't seem relevant. It's amazing the patterns we spot sometimes. 

  
SleepyBug: I have a volunteer for a couple of sleep tests. As I said on the other site, the designs I used were different, so I don't expect that to make a difference. By the way, what's the deal with the lexicon? 

  
GRenegade: Well, as I said, some magic tends to be intent-based, meaning that the outcome is mostly determined by our desires and how we focus our thoughts, and some tends to be pattern or image or sigil based, meaning that the person makes different designs to get different outcomes. TheJeff (and Snowleopard, too - Snowleopard is really into the lexicon, and I think he may have written parts of it, though it doesn't say) has this idea that there are perfect designs that should work for everybody and be totally efficient and possibly bring about enlightenment, the way he talks sometimes. Most of the people I've talked to who actually keep track of their experiments say it works better if they follow their own instincts, so I'm inclined to think TheJeff is wrong. Maybe those are the designs that work best for him or something.

  
SleepyBug: he seemed really aggressive about it.

  
GRenegade: yeah, he...well, I need to go. We'll talk about it later. You should say hello in the main chat, they're good people.

  
SleepyBug: sure thing. See you later.   
  
Victoria glanced at the clock and realized she'd been in the library for several hours. She introduced herself briefly on the main chat (explaining that she couldn't actually stay, but would be back) and packed up her laptop to go home.    
  
\---   
  
Victoria was not able to spend much time at the cafe or the library during the rest of the week, but she dove into embroidery and experimentation.    
  
She started by embroidering a Celtic knot design on a strip of fabric which Hugo could tie around his wrist. Between her previous experience and some of the meditation tips from the online articles, she fell into the trance-like state easily and was rewarded with the flash of light when she finished.    
  
"I guess you'll have to be careful about embroidering in public," Hugo commented as she handed him the newly made charm.    
  
Victoria scootched over and leaned against his arm. "I just have to be careful not to finish, I think. It would be difficult to meditate properly in most public places anyway, so it's not that big of a problem. I will have to be careful in front of the kids, though."   
  
"Should we tell them?" Hugo asked, putting his arm around her.    
  
"I've been considering that myself," Victoria replied. "I think no, or not right now. It just...it doesn't affect daily life, really, and I don't know how they'd respond. I guess we'll tell them someday."   
  
"That seems reasonable for now," Hugo said. He turned his attention back to the strip of embroidered cloth. "So I just tie this on?"    
  
"That's the plan. We'll see if it works on you, and then I can check whether it makes it hard to wake you up. I was also thinking you should wear it during the day, and see what effect it has," Victoria suggested.    
  
"Sounds like a plan," Hugo said, and began to wrap the charm around his wrist.    
  
\---   
  
"Sweetheart, your charm works like a charm," Hugo joked the next morning.    
  
Victoria turned to look at him. Despite the early hour, he was energetically dressing for the day, and he looked cheerful and alert. "I can tell!" she replied. "I hadn't realized what a difference it makes!"    
  
He laughed and bent over to kiss her. "Funny about that."    
  
Victoria looked thoughtful. "We see all those articles about how people in the modern world don't get enough sleep, and we should be going to bed early and turning off our devices and taking naps and all that. I hadn't really thought about what it meant for everyone to be just a little sleep deprived all the time."   
  
"It makes quite a difference. You should make one for yourself, if you can," said Hugo.   
  
"I should make one for Ethan first. He had another nightmare last night," Victoria replied. She pulled her cardigan on and stood up. "Speaking of whom, I should get the kids ready for school."   
  
\---   
  
Over the next week they established that, while Hugo slept exceptionally well while wearing his sleep charm, he wasn't especially hard to wake up, much to Victoria's relief. She didn't want to risk him sleeping through a fire alarm or something of that sort.   
  
She embroidered a corner of Ethan's sheet next, and the nightmares stopped. She did Grace's next, and then the sheet from her and Hugo's bed. Hugo reported that the charm on the sheet worked just as well as the one on his wrist and using them both at once seemed the same as using just one. Victoria found the charm did help her sleep, but not as much as it helped Hugo, probably because external magic generally didn't work as well on the person who made the charm. Still, everyone slept better, and mornings were much more pleasant.   
  
Hugo also tried wearing his sleep charm during the day, and reported that it didn't have much effect unless he actually decided to take a nap. Clearly Victoria couldn't force someone to sleep.   
  
At this point Victoria consulted GRenegade for suggestions about what other effects to try for.    
  
SleepyBug:...so I feel like I've tested the sleep charm fairly well, but I'd like to try for other magical effects. My magic is clearly not pattern-based, so it's a matter of focus, but I'm not sure what to try for. Do I just pick at random? 

  
GRenegade: Thankfully, that's probably not necessary. Magic-users who can use magic to do multiple jobs usually find they are related - that woman who knits warming charm sweaters and scarves might be able to make them waterproof or magically self-sizing (though for the record I doubt it'll work in her case), but she won't be able to fly or anything like that. Sleep could be considered a physical effect, in which case you might try for healing or increased strength or flexibility, or it could be considered a mental effect, in which case you might try for improved memory or creativity or emotional resilience. Do any of those feel right? 

  
SleepyBug: I hate this "trust your feelings" stuff. It seems completely ridiculous and wooly-minded. I know it works, but seriously? You'll be telling me to follow my heart next. 

  
GRenegade: You'd follow your heart right back to making lists about everything. 

  
SleepyBug: I suppose that's fair. In any case, the mental effects "feel" more likely, but how do I test for that? Those are all very subjective.

  
GRenegade: Well, you won't get the flash of light if you try for something that's totally out of your range. If you have a willing test subject, make a few identical items and have them try them on different days without knowing what they do. If they notice a difference and identify the charm correctly, it probably worked. 

  
SleepyBug: that should work. I'll have to come up with some appropriate items. I'm told the wraparound sleep charm was annoying under work clothes. 

  
GRenegade: That I can't help you with :) Good luck!    
  
Victoria was still considering what type of charm to test on Hugo that evening, and when she started folding the laundry she got her answer. She could embroider Hugo's boxers! He'd notice the embroidery, of course, but she didn't have to tell him what the charms did or even which ones were actually magical.   
  
She set aside the first pair of boxers and continued folding, already considering what designs and colors her husband might appreciate, or at least not mind too much.   
  
\---   
  
The next day Maryam announced that they should spend more time on the Diagio collection, so Victoria gathered her laptop and the camera and they headed down together.   
  
"Have we heard back about that jewelry?" Victoria asked.   
  
"Oh yes, Dr. Okonjo emailed me. There's some classic period pieces, of course, but nothing of particular interest historically. He does recommend we get the brooch with the large yellow stone professionally appraised, though. It might be a diamond, but of course he can't really tell from photos," Maryam replied.    
  
"That would be quite a windfall for the museum," Victoria commented, helping to open the next box.    
  
"It all depends, of course, but yes, it might be worth quite a bit. That would be a nice reward for all our work sorting through this stuff," Maryam said, pulling a large tangle of yarn, which had come partially unwound from its balls, out of the box. She looked at it in distaste.    
  
Victoria came forward to feel it. The yarn wasn't really dirty, but it had picked up dust and felt stiff and brittle in places. "This all feels like acrylic yarn, and it's not in great condition," she said.    
  
"Oh good, that means I don't have to worry about untangling it," Maryam replied, handing it over to be put in the trash pile.    
  
Victoria helped her shift the balls of yarn out of the box. "I'll check through this, since any cotton or wool yarn might still be in good condition, but I expect we can get rid of it all."   
  
Maryam turned back to the box and pulled out a few spools of thread, an embroidery hoop, and a large cloth. "Oh, look at this," she cried, holding up an embroidery sampler.    
  
Victoria helped spread it out. It was a beautiful piece of work, mostly in cross-stitch but with some surface embroidery in brightly-colored wool. It was signed "Phoebe Diagio" and dated 1919.   
  
"Do we know who Phoebe Diagio is?" Victoria asked.    
  
"I don't, but I could ask Aron Finch if we know anything about the family. Let me see...Helena would have been about thirty in 1919. Phoebe could be her daughter?"    
  
"Maybe. Did schoolgirls still routinely make samplers in 1919?" Victoria asked, trying to remember. She moved the camera father away from the table, so it could get a clear shot of the entire sampler.    
  
"Aren't you the embroidery expert?" Maryam asked, smirking a little at her.    
  
"I'm a hobbyist, not a historian. I make lists and write emails," Victoria replied firmly.    
  
Maryam grinned at her. "You do a lot more than that, but point taken. 1919 is late for a sampler, you usually see them before 1850."   
  
"So this was embroidered for fun, by an older girl or an adult," Victoria concluded, helping Maryam arrange the sampler to be photographed.    
  
"So possibly not her daughter. Maybe a sister," Maryam suggested.    
  
"Maybe a sister. She must have had one, since she left things to her nephew. What are we going to do with it?" Victoria asked.    
  
"We might actually keep it," Maryam said thoughtfully. "We have a number of samplers in the collection, and some dresses and things. We could do an exhibit about sewing or fiber arts in general, and something like this would round it out nicely."    
  
Victoria finished recording the details of the sampler, and looked up to see that Maryam had pulled out a stack of cheap paperbacks. She put the sampler aside and pulled the laptop closer to record the titles.    
  



	12. 1909 again

21 April 1909, 4:46pm

My dear Helena,

I was enthralled by your description of your magical gift. What a rare and wonderful talent! I shall look forward to seeing how you use it in the future. I can tell that you have more common sense than most, and will use it wisely. It is rare to see such maturity in one your age.

I have been gathering magic-workers from all over the world for some time now. We are a special race, and we should know and support each other. I shall certainly introduce you to some of the others - chosen others, who will be good friends for you. A talent like yours should have every advantage.

I'm afraid that, to the best of my knowledge, there are no magical creatures such as the ones discussed in children's books. I have never met a fairy or a unicorn, and the only vampires are human ones. I have come across records of certain magic-users who could turn into animals, which perhaps form the basis of certain legends. 

Yours sincerely,

Geoffrey Hanussen, 4:58pm

\---

29 April 1909, 3:38pm

My dear Helena,

I beg your pardon for failing to introduce myself; I confess I was so excited by your remarkable gift that I quite forgot. 

My name is Geoffrey Hanussen, a magic-user like yourself. My talent is rather small in comparison to yours: I can alter my appearance in small ways (principally the length, color, and style of my hair) by drawing lines in fogged-up glass. A small talent, but useful in its way. 

I am perturbed to hear that you have not been developing your gift. I can understand your reluctance to violate the rules taught by society, but surely our gifts were not given to us to be hidden under a bushel. You are a sensible young woman; I am certain you can see the wisdom of exploring the limits and uses of your magic.

I am enclosing the beginnings of a lexicon of patterns which I have been researching for some years. I believe these sigils to be especially powerful when used in the mark-making of magic. Would you be so kind as to help me test them? I am quite urgent to increase knowledge that will benefit our community.

Yours sincerely,

Geoffrey Hanussen, 3:56pm

\---

15 May 1909, 10:12am

My dear Helena,

Your research is most valuable, and your experiences (most notably the instance in which you caused your professor to favor your friend over her rival) have quite possibly provided the final key I have needed to realize the systematic understanding of magic which will allow us to reach greater strength than ever before.

Your recent insight that you cannot change a firm decision, once someone has made one, is a fascinating one. Given how often your charms are successful, it is a clear illustration of how few firm decisions most normal people actually make. 

I would not concern myself overmuch, if I were you, over the consequences of the changes you make. You are a sensible woman, and I am sure you have made excellent choices. And if one or two of your research subjects suffers some trifling unpleasantness, you can always provide them with some commensurate favor at some point in the future.

I am very curious, you know, about what would happen if you destroyed one of your patterns. I perfectly understand your reluctance to attempt the experiment, but perhaps with a subject you would not mind losing? We shall think about the best way to go about the matter.

I am enclosing an introduction to Miss Adelaide Marchand, a magic-user with the talent of charming birds to sing in harmony. She is as intelligent and sensible as yourself, and I think you will find her a charming correspondent.

Yours sincerely,

Geoffrey Hanussen, 10:35am


	13. Chapter 7

A week later, Victoria had more findings to report. She had embroidered small designs on several of Hugo's boxers, focusing on a variety of effects, including increased intelligence, memory, alertness, creativity, resilience, and physical strength. Most of the time, there was no flash of light when she finished. The resilience charm did work, and Hugo mentioned he'd been calmer that day, and that a meeting with a difficult client had been less stressful than he had expected.

"It's not that the people from AMK were any easier than usual," he explained that evening. "It's more that they said all the same stuff they always do, and it just didn't bother me. Like they were talking about someone else. It was very nice, really."

"So....it kept you from taking them seriously?" Victoria asked.

Hugo took a sip of his tea while he thought about it. "No, I knew their project was important, and I could focus on what needed to happen easily enough. It's just I didn't take their criticism personally, even when it was personal. And it was easier to ignore it when they tried to manipulate me at the end, I think, but I'm not sure. That part was very brief and they were mostly focused on my manager anyway."

"Well, I'm glad it was nice. I'll add that one to the rest of your boxers, unless I think of anything else I want to try first," said Victoria.

"You might want to do them on Grace's things first," Hugo suggested. "She's at that age."

"That's an excellent idea. Did I tell you she wants to get her belly button pierced? I wasn't sure what to say to that one. She's too young now, but I suppose in a few years I'd be willing to discuss it. It's not like a tattoo, where you're stuck with it for life."

"They grow up so fast sometimes," Hugo commented.

The conversation drifted on.

\---

Victoria stopped at the cafe the next day to update her online friends with her findings. She'd been chatting with them every few days, and was beginning to know the people on both sites.

Almost as soon as she logged on, GRenegade pinged her private chat column. 

GRenegade: SleepyBug! Excellent! SouthernJaya is here too - hang on, let me add her.

SouthernJaya: Um. Hi. I guess you're SleepyBug.

SleepyBug: Hi, SouthernJaya. GRenegade has certainly told me a lot about you. You make people think better or something?

SouthernJaya: it would be more accurate to say I make people more rational. I can target specific cognitive biases and reduce their effect, typically by at least 50%, as far as I can tell.

SleepyBug: you've measured it?

SouthernJaya: I'm a doctoral student in psychology. One of the faculty members I'm working with does research into cognitive biases, and I've been able to sneak my own tests in sometimes. Not as often as I'd like, but I did get a decent sample size for an anchoring bias test, and a few samples for several other biases.

SleepyBug: what's anchoring bias?

SouthernJaya: it's the idea that our brains like to start with a number and adjust from there when estimating a quantity or how much something is worth. If you spin a roulette wheel and then ask volunteers to guess how many countries there are in Africa, the people who got a high spin will have considerably higher guesses than the people with low spins, even though the roulette spin is obviously totally irrelevant.

SleepyBug: so your charms make them guess better?

SouthernJaya: well, the guesses weren't very good, but at least they weren't influenced by the roulette wheel. 

SleepyBug: and you can do that with other cognitive biases? 

GRenegade: SleepyBug, look up a list of cognitive biases sometime. They're responsible for all the stupid decisions humans make, it's incredible. And all the stupid opinions. SouthernJaya can make people actually be sensible. 

SleepyBug: Really? Wow. That sounds really useful, then. That must be amazing.

SouthernJaya: well, not always. Rational people aren't always nice, and I can't necessarily predict what the outcome will be. Sometimes it's hard to tell which biases are in play.

SouthernJaya: also, GRenegade is exaggerating a bit. Humans are still capable of making stupid decisions without any particular bias. 

SleepyBug: still, that sounds really nice.

SouthernJaya: Actually, I've been saying for ages that I wished I could make people get a good night's sleep. So many people in our society are chronically sleep-deprived, and it makes it even harder for people to think straight.

SleepyBug: I have noticed that my family is a lot calmer since I've put sleep charms on all the sheets. Everyone is better at stopping and thinking before they get upset or say something hurtful.

SouthernJaya: yup, that's exactly what I would expect. Tiredness makes you impulsive, even paranoid if it's bad enough. Your brain just can't keep up. I wish we could work together in person - I'd love to see how responses change with the addition of sleep charms.

GRenegade: actually, I was kind of hoping you would work together.

SleepyBug: how? 

SouthernJaya: on who?

GRenegade: On TheJeff, actually. Straight Line Magic has a really good collection of people, and the community would be much stronger if TheJeff weren't such a bully. So, maybe between you, you can stop him from being a bully.

SleepyBug: I guess I don't mind trying, but do you think it will work? I think most bullies need more than a nap and a chance to think.

SouthernJaya: Actually, I'm inclined to think it might work. TheJeff does show the sort of behavior I would expect from someone with chronic sleep deprivation, including the paranoia and the impulsive behavior and the difficulty with complex or abstract thought. And he's on the forum for hours every night, isn't he?

SleepyBug: maybe the forum brings in enough revenue to count as a job?

GRenegade: I don't think so. He makes references to work occasionally - I think he works in a bank.

SouthernJaya: If he's working a normal job during the day, he's definitely sleep-deprived. One of SleepyBug's charms might be useful. I'm actually not certain my charms would be useful in this instance. Bullying is frequently rational - remember that I said rational doesn't always mean nice. Bullying to maintain social position is pretty effective. 

GRenegade: Do you know VertVanadium? He doesn't come online very often, so you might not.

SleepyBug: I don't think so. Who is he? 

GRenegade: He had some chemistry magic that I didn't understand very well, but the point is that he was one of the first people on Straight Line Magic, way back when it was started. Snowleopard was running it then, actually. 

SouthernJaya: Did Snowleopard write the articles? Someone said something about that once, and it puzzled me. 

GRenegade: I think those were TheJeff, actually, but maybe Snowleopard helped. The point is, VertVanadium says TheJeff wasn't at all bullying or manipulative back then. He says TheJeff was pretty normal, proud of his magic, excited to work with Snowleopard. Then one week Snowleopard announced that he was stepping down and that TheJeff was more than qualified to take over, and ever since then TheJeff has been getting really hard to deal with. 

SleepyBug: Sounds to me like power corrupting him.

SouthernJaya: Depends how fast it happened. He might have just been overwhelmed, and then got controlling as a way to try to manage it. It happens. 

SleepyBug: so is that a cognitive bias? 

SouthernJaya: Not really, but I think it's still helpful. If he started out with good intentions, we just have to get him to step back and reconsider how things have turned out. If I block his self-herding bias, and you get him a good night's sleep, we really might be able to talk to him about how to manage better. 

SleepyBug: What is self-herding bias? 

SouthernJaya: Well, herding bias is when we do what everyone else does. If everyone is buying Pampers diapers instead of Huggies, you probably will too. But if you don't have many friends with babies, you'll pick some other way - which one is cheaper, maybe, or which one is closer when you get to the shelf in the store. The next time, you'll get the same brand because that's what you did last time, even if the price or position has changed. You are your own herd.

SleepyBug: so GRenegade's theory is that TheJeff is a good man who is just overwhelmed and overworked. If you tried to make him rational but couldn't make him sleep, he'd probably find a more efficient way to be controlling. If I made him sleep without you making him rational, he'd probably keep doing what he'd been doing without thinking about it. But with both of us, we might have a chance.

GRenegade: That's the idea. We'd need to sit down for a long talk afterwards, I think. Maybe even get VertVanadium and some of the other old hands involved, since he might be more inclined to listen to them.

SleepyBug: Maybe Snowleopard?

GRenegade: I don't know, he seems to go along with whatever TheJeff says.

SouthernJaya: I'm still not convinced this is a great idea. What if we're wrong about his motivation?

SleepyBug: Maybe we should be focusing on providing another website, or figure out a way to get TheJeff to step down. If Straight Line Magic had more moderators, none of them would get overwhelmed.

GRenegade: TheJeff has a lot of influence, though. He spends a lot of time talking to people and making introductions. If we went against him openly, he'd probably demand that people choose sides, and it would get really nasty, especially for newcomers who just need some advice. I think it's worth a try.

SouthernJaya: He's got a point. A fight between magic-users could get dangerous, too.

GRenegade: Also, VertVanadium says there's the possibility that TheJeff is somehow linked to Geoffrey Hanussen, who was a magic-user he exchanged a few letters with back in the 70s. Hanussen introduced him to a few other magic-users, and VertVanadium says they said that Hanussen had been a wonderful leader for the magic community - he'd done an excellent job of pulling them together through writing letters, and he'd encouraged mentorship and experimentation and just made the whole community that much stronger. He disappeared in the mid-seventies. If TheJeff is his son or student, it's a shame to lose all that knowledge and skill.

SleepyBug: I see your point. I guess I don't mind giving it a try, but I wanted to make sure we considered the consequences properly. I'll talk it over with my husband, and we'll see.

SouthernJaya: I would also like to think about it further. Did you have a particular time in mind?

GRenegade: TheJeff is planning on going to MagicCon in a month. If I can get his hotel reservation, that might be an ideal time.

SleepyBug: so what, we're going to sneak into his hotel room while he sleeps?

GRenegade: Not while he sleeps! But yes, there might be some sneaking. SouthernJaya could lay her rangoli on the floor outside his door, and you could embroider a big sheet ahead of time and we could just change the sheets. I could be the one to go in, if you don't want to. 

SouthernJaya: won't he notice the embroidery? I can use a color close to the carpet, but embroidery changes the texture as well. 

SleepyBug: No, I put sleep charms in the corner of a sheet, so it would probably be tucked under the mattress. But aside from that, are you insane? We can't sneak into somebody's hotel room! 

GRenegade: You don't have to! And it's for his own good, we're not stealing anything or anything like that. It might technically be illegal, but it's definitely not immoral.

SleepyBug: Well, I still think it's insane. But I said I'd think about it, so I'll think about it.

\---

"So what do you think?" Victoria asked. She and Hugo were curled up together on the couch.

"Well, you're not wrong that it's crazy," Hugo said thoughtfully, "but it seems to me that your part is the least crazy part."

"I wouldn't even have to be there, really," Victoria said. She'd been thinking about GRenegade's plan all day.

"True. You could embroider the sheet and mail it to GRenegade. Of course, that does tell him where you live, and I don't know if we want to do that."

Victoria waved that away. "I'm pretty sure he could find out by sending messages to the laptop, if he wanted. We don't have to put our full address on the package. Anyway, I think we can trust him. I've gotten to know him and Sketchbooker pretty well now."

"So making the charm is simple. How long does it take SouthernJaya to make a rangoli?"

"Don't know. I looked them up after GRenegade mentioned them. The elaborate ones take a long time, of course, but if she can do something simple, or maybe use a stencil, it wouldn't take long at all." Victoria unfolded her legs and flexed her foot, which had partially fallen asleep.

"That's still long enough for security to see, if there's cameras in the halls," Hugo commented.

"I'm not sure they'd care, though, since it isn't obviously criminal. And there will be plenty of drunk stage magicians to distract them. Or she could do it inside the room. I wonder how GRenegade is planning on getting in?"

"I know what I'd do," Hugo chuckled.

"You have a plan for sneaking into hotel rooms?" Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not so much a plan as a weakness I've noticed in the past. Have you ever noticed that hotel staff don't check who you are if your key card stops working?" Hugo asked.

"If your card stops working?" Victoria repeated, surprised.

"Sure. You get a faulty card, you go down to the front desk and hand them your card and say it stopped working, and they ask what your room number is and make you a new card, no questions asked. If you have a spare room key, or sneak one out of their trash somehow, it wouldn't be hard to get a key for someone else's room."

"Or you could say you lost it, I guess. I never thought of that." Victoria paused, then added, "Of course, GRenegade is a hacker. He might have another way to get a card."

"True. But that's not important," Hugo said, sliding his hand down her arm and turning to kiss her. "This is."


	14. March

"Are you coming for lunch?" Grace asked Lisa, as she buttoned up her coat. Lisa's desk was right outside Grace's office, and they often ate together.   
  
"Nope, I'm good," Lisa replied, with a smile and a wave. She leaned her head on her hand and continued to review the building standards she had been reviewing.   
  
"Okay, see you later," Grace said.   
  
When Grace returned, Lisa was still at her desk.    
  
"Have you eaten?" Grace asked, puzzled.   
  
"No, but I'm good," Lisa replied, lifting her head from her hand to smile at Grace.   
  
"Okay. Have you finished with that binder? I need to check something for the Parker design," Grace asked.   
  
"Almost."   
  
"Let me know when you finish with it," Grace replied, and stepped into her office.   
  
Grace had to call a materials supplier before she could do anything else, and the call took much longer than she'd expected. Once they had finally reached an agreement, Grace sat down. She still needed the binder with the standards, and Lisa hadn't brought it in yet.   
  
Grace peeked out through her door. Lisa was still sitting happily at her desk, still reviewing the standards. Grace would just have to find something else to do.   
  
Grace sat down again, updated her timesheet, and answered a few emails. She was about to go ask Lisa about the binder again when one of her notebooks caught her eye and she suddenly realized what had happened.   
  
Grace flipped open the notebook, and there it was. She'd begun a pattern on the page, and then during a meeting she'd sketched Lisa, reviewing papers with her head propped on her hand, in the blank area. This morning, she had finished the pattern while she was thinking about the best way to resolve the living room layout in the Parker house. And now Lisa was still at her desk, in that same position.   
  
Oops.   
  
*At least she was happy,* Grace thought. *It would have been much worse if she'd been upset the whole time.*   
  
Grace erased several lines from the pattern, until the tingly feeling of a charm faded away. She erased a few more, for good measure.   
  
A minute later, Lisa appeared in her doorway, holding the binder. "I have the standards here. I'm sorry it took me so long; I completely lost track of time."   
  
Grace came to take the binder. "It's not a problem at all. Are you okay? I don't think you left for lunch."   
  
Lisa looked rather puzzled. "You're right. I didn't even notice. I'm rather sore, too."   
  
Grace nodded. "Go eat lunch. Maybe take a walk, too. You look like you could use it."   
  
Lisa nodded and left. Grace tore back to her desk and pulled out every notebook she had.   
  
An hour later, Grace let out a sigh of relief. She'd flipped through all her notebooks and hadn't found any other charms with drawings in them. It was so scary to think she could have trapped someone and never even noticed it. She'd have to be more careful in the future.   
  
Grace slowly put the notebooks away, and made a note to stop at the nearest spa on the way home and get Lisa a gift certificate for a massage. It was really the least she could do.    
  



	15. Chapter 8

SouthernJaya: So you think you'll do it then?   
  
SleepyBug: Looks like it. I mean, my part is the easiest. I don't even have to be there. Although I noticed MagicCon is only an hour or so away from me, so I could come anyway. How are you feeling about it?   
  
SouthernJaya: I'm more hesitant, but if I stay outside his room I wouldn't even be doing anything illegal. And I can make it quick.    
  
SleepyBug: I read online that some people use stencils for rangoli now?    
  
SouthernJaya: People do, but they don't work for me. Even if I'm not trying to make a charm I mostly find them irritating, because I like making my own designs. And really they don't necessarily save time, because it takes so long to shake an even layer. I use a Tibetan chakpur for my designs, and it's very effective.    
  
SleepyBug: Are your charms intent-based or pattern-based?    
  
SouthernJaya: Pattern-based, though not using the sigils in the Straight Line lexicon. I tried those once when Snowleopard suggested it, but none of them worked for me. Most of mine seem to use traditional  Indian designs and symbolism, though not any one specific place or culture. I find myself pulling images from all over.    
  
SleepyBug: How have you developed them? Do you know instinctively what to use? My experience has been so different, since mine are intent-based.    
  
SouthernJaya: Actually, I have to do a lot of research. Most of the time I know it when I see it, but I spend quite a bit of time trying different images and combinations before it clicks. I can't always reuse them, either, because some designs are influenced by who they are targeting.    
  
SleepyBug: I guess I should have expected that. So you have to know the person pretty well?    
  
SouthernJaya: Sometimes. I have to relate them to the symbolism of the rest of the image. As an example, recently I wanted to make a series of charms to fight the mere exposure effect, which is when people tend to choose something they've seen before. A lot of advertising is mere exposure. The first image I came up with had a snake in it, but it didn't work on all the people I wanted to use it on. Eventually I realized that a snake is an image of cunning and insidious harm to someone who is a lion or another large predator, but it's a powerful predator to someone who is a mouse. I had to come up with a few different designs to cover everybody.   
  
SleepyBug: that sounds exhausting. How many did you do?   
  
SouthernJaya: Well, I had a group of twenty people, and I ended up with four designs. I did one in each corner of the room, and I tried to direct people to the corner I thought was most likely, but I checked later and it didn't actually matter.   
  
SleepyBug: So did it work?   
  
SouthernJaya: Oh yes, the results were quite remarkable. People made totally different decisions in our test than the control group - though I noticed they seemed kind of aimless, because they didn't have a way to choose and didn't know how to handle it. I went around and messed up all the rangoli before they left, to limit the long-term effect.   
  
SleepyBug: I was going to ask about that. I know rangoli are typically temporary, and in this plan with The Jeff it's quite likely the design will get kicked or something. Will it still work?   
  
SouthernJaya: I haven't been able to measure it properly, but the should still work. If I mess it up, it has a minor effect long-term that isn't usually noticeable. If someone else messes it up, it's slightly less effective but not by much. I think. I wish I could test that one better!   
  
SleepyBug: You know, I've never even considered what would happen if one of my sleep charms got destroyed! I should check that.   
  
SouthernJaya: From what I've read, probably nothing, if the charm only works while the person is trying to sleep and physically close to the charm. I've heard reports that some people have magic that affects the target so strongly that they can be damaged if the charm is destroyed, and I'm very thankful I'm not in that situation.    
  
SleepyBug: Wow, I'm glad I didn't know about that before I did my first tests. I was worried enough as it was.    
  
SouthernJaya: Who did you test on? I was in the habit of making rangoli when I was bored, so the time I realized what was happening, I had quite a few accidental tests to look at.   
  
SleepyBug: The first deliberate tests were on my husband, and only after finding the Straight Line Magic website. I was so worried that there was some sort of unexpected consequence that I was very close to getting the first two sleep charm blankets back and giving up embroidery entirely. But the articles reassured me, and of course my husband knew what he was agreeing to.    
  
SouthernJaya: So how has the better sleep affected your family? I'm actually fascinated by the concept. It's a pity we can't publish magic-based research; teasing out the effects of sleep has been a major problem in psychological research.    
  
SleepyBug: I can send you scans of my embroidery journal, if you want. That's where I keep my notes, though I've been meaning to establish a separate magic journal. I'm still working out the best way to cross-reference them.    
  
SouthernJaya: I'd love to see them! Maybe email them to me? Jaya.batra@gmail.com   
  
Victoria sat back, smiling. Jaya seemed really interesting, and it was nice to meet someone else who was so methodical in her testing. She looked forward to further discussions.    
  
\---   
  
"How have you been getting on with that book we found?" Maryam asked a few days later. They were in the museum basement, and Maryam was sorting through a stack of old shopping lists and receipts.   
  
Victoria straightened and stretched her back. "I haven't been able to read much of it, to be honest. I'm a little bit puzzled by it. So far there's been a couple of recipes, some magazine clippings, a few journal entries, a bit of poetry she copied down, some notes about what she paid for groceries that week, and a few other things. It's all jumbled up and doesn't seem to be in any particular order, and sometimes she says why she copied or saved something but sometimes she doesn't. None of it's very interesting, to be honest, but I'm still puzzled as to how why she put it together."   
  
"Maybe she just wasn't very consistent?"   
  
"Maybe. But this is so inconsistent that it feels deliberate. On the other hand, I may be imagining that."   
  
"Or she might have had a little dementia. On the other hand, you may be right. It certainly does no harm to keep reading."   
  
Victoria shivered, remembering her discussion with Jaya from the night before about a rumored magic-user who made books that drew people into the world of their (usually horrifying) stories. But Helena Diagio's book was safe, she knew. If nothing else, magic-users could typically tell when something was a charm, and Victoria hadn't noticed anything.   
  
Victoria turned back to the pile she was sorting. "There are six sets of sheets here, still in their packaging. I wonder why she had them?"   
  
"A good sale, maybe."   
  
Victoria opened the sheets to check that they weren't musty or damaged, and put them in the jumble sale pile. Next were sheets that were neatly folded but had probably been used. They smelled faintly of lavender. As she pulled them out, a new bar of lavender soap fell from between them. Under the sheets were towels, but as she picked them up she realized they they were wrapped around something solid.   
  
Victoria pushed at the edge of the towel and saw blue and white underneath. "I think I found the vases!" she said.   
  
Maryam put down a flour canister and hurried over. They carefully pulled out the towel and unwrapped the vase. The next towel had another painted vase, and the one after that had a large glass pitcher.    
  
"Let's stop there and photograph these before we unwrap any others," Maryam said.    
  
Victoria turned to pick up her laptop. "Are the vases actually worth anything, do you think?"    
  
Maryam shrugged. "As local history, definitely not. Miss Diagio's will said they were sent to her by a friend. As vintage Chinese porcelain, they might be worth a bit. People do collect such things. I'll send photos to an expert just in case, of course, but we'll probably sell them."   
  
"I wonder why she left them to us? They must have been special to her."    
  
"Chinese porcelain wouldn't have been common in the world she grew up in, as there was much less trade between cultures then. Maybe they seemed exotic to her."    
  
"They're beautiful, anyway," Victoria said, noting the photo numbers in her spreadsheet.    
  
"That they are," agreed Maryam.    
  
\---   
  
"Drat."    
  
Hugo looked up. Victoria was sitting on the couch in her favorite working position, staring at the corner of a white king-size sheet. He leaned over; the rosette design she'd been working on looked complete. Suddenly the problem clicked in his head.   
  
"No flash?" he asked.   
  
"No flash."   
  
Hugo shifted over to put his arm around Victoria and pull her against him. She came slowly, unwilling to relax until the problem was solved.   
  
"Any idea what happened?" he finally asked.   
  
Victoria chuckled darkly. "I know exactly what happened. I was thinking about how annoying TheJeff is instead of good thoughts."   
  
"Well, at least it has four corners. You can try again."   
  
Victoria looked at the other corners and sighed. "I suppose. It's just frustrating. And he's awfully irritating."   
  
Hugo frowned thoughtfully. "Your friend said he wasn't always irritating, right? Maybe you can find some of those old threads and see what he was like then. It might make it easier to want good things for him."   
  
Victoria brightened. "I probably could. Or maybe GRenegade can get a couple of stories from VertVanadium about him. That would make it easier. I'll ask tomorrow. In the meantime, I can start transferring the pattern again."   
  
Hugo leaned forward to take the pattern from her hand. "In the meantime, you can drink your tea. You've been very focused on this lately."   
  
Victoria relinquished the paper and began to pack up her supplies. "I really have been. I'm sorry I'm neglecting you," she said.   
  
"I'm not feeling neglected, really, but some time would be nice," Hugo admitted.   
  
\---   
  
From: VertVanadium   
To: SleepyBug   
Re: TheJeff stories   
  
GRenegade tells me you need to know what TheJeff was like before he took over management of Straight Line Magic. I gather the old threads were lost or deleted in the latest upgrade.   
  
I think the case I remember most clearly was that of WordClickett. I don't exactly remember what WordClickett's gift was, but she wasn't entirely in control of it. It had to do with the arrangement of the braids in her hair, and she would see bits of other times - sometimes the future, sometimes the past, rarely enough to be at all useful. It was very disorienting for her, and she had trouble finding work or maintaining a stable situation for long because of it. She didn't really talk about the difficulty, but TheJeff caught some hint or figured it out.    
  
The way he handled it was really quite lovely. He didn't single her out or anything like that, he just started a discussion of what magic-users who were troubled by their magic could do. Various people have various strategies, of course, but by bringing the subject up as a group effort we could do much more brainstorming and testing. After a while, he proposed a support group for people in that situation, and privately asked some of the older members to keep an eye on WordClickett. I've always been impressed by how much effort he went to to help her.   
  
And really, several of the better techniques for managing magic have come from that group. The idea of finding neutral positions, in particular, has been enormously helpful. You may not have had reason to come across that one - a neutral position is a pattern (or state of mind, or habit, or whatever is most relevant to a given form of magic) that either consistently produces no magic, or produces what we think is unformed magic - a flash of light but no discernable effect. In WordClickett's case, she was much better off once she found a specific hair arrangement that rarely triggered magic. I believe she was able to earn her CPA eventually, with some assistance.   
  
I hope this is useful. I will check back through my records and see if I kept any of my correspondence from that time, as there may be other stories. In general, I hope you will not mind if I advise you to practice wishing people well in your meditation. Sleep charms have the potential to be quite useful, if applied properly, and you would be wise to expand your ability as much as you can. Practice is really remarkably helpful. And who knows? If you make a habit of creating sleep charms for people you dislike, they may become more likeable in time.   
  
Sincerely,   
Peter Brown (VertVanadium)   
  
\--   
  
SleepyBug: Are you awake?   
  
SouthernJaya: Yes, actually. I'm trying to finish writing a paper, as the deadline for submission is tomorrow. Why are you up?   
  
SleepyBug: Just thinking about people. VertVanadium suggested I make sleep charms for everyone I dislike.   
  
SouthernJaya: Yeah, that's the drawback for intent-based magic. Did he at least have any good stories about TheJeff?   
  
SleepyBug: He had one, and he says he'll look for others. It should help. There's a quote in that journal from the museum I told you about: "I don't care for spiritual powers much myself. I've got much more sympathy with spiritual weaknesses." I've been thinking about that a lot.   
  
SouthernJaya: What does it mean?    
  
SleepyBug: I had to look up the context: it's in a short story by G. K. Chesterton. I think it means that not everyone has special powers (or maybe that no one has special powers) but everyone has human weaknesses.    
  
SouthernJaya: So you think you'll succeed with the charm?    
  
SleepyBug: I think so. Sounds like there's a good man under there somewhere, and that's who I'm making the charm for. I've got plenty of time, even allowing for shipping time.    
  
SouthernJaya: That's good. I need to work on the design for the rangoli at some point - I have a few, but I want to see if I can simplify it. Something simple would be faster. I can't ship mine.    
  
SleepyBug: Actually, I was thinking I might come be there anyway. MagicCon is only about an hour's drive from me, and I'm curious to see what will happen.    
  
SouthernJaya: I hope you do. It would be great to meet you in person.    
  
SleepyBug: That's what I was thinking. We will see what makes sense. Anyway, aren't you supposed to be writing a paper?    
  
SouthernJaya: Right. Priorities. Want to take a look at my introduction? I could use a fresh pair of eyes.    
  
SleepyBug: Sure, send it over.    
  



	16. 1911

Helena was twenty-two when she realized that messing with other people's lives was a terrible thing to do. Again.    
  
On a whim, she had picked up a new book at the book store: The Innocence of Father Brown by G. K. Chesterton. She'd devoured the stories in one evening, enjoying Father Brown's clear thinking and gentle insight.    
  
As she got up to go to bed, her eyes fell on the cigar boxes and notebooks spread out across her desk, and she froze. What on earth had she been thinking?    
  
A piece of dialogue that had struck her while she was reading played again in her mind: "...his brain turned also, and he fancied he was God. So that, though he was a good man, he committed a great crime.”   
  
Helena sat on her bed and put her face in her hands. All those lives. All those people who might have made different decisions or grown in different directions until she interfered. All those people who she'd made to act so unnaturally, playing with them like puppets.    
  
Her eyes drifted to the space where one box had contained a charm until she'd smashed it, a couple months before. The young man from the post office who had been linked to that charm had since killed himself. Helena hadn't liked him, and Geoffrey claimed that it wasn't her fault, that he must have been suicidal already, but she knew better. Tears welled up in her eyes and she slumped sideways on the bed.    
  
Eventually her tears slowed. She stood up and carefully, one by one, she placed the boxes in the back of her closet, where they would remain undisturbed. She opened the desk drawer that held the materials for more charms and began methodically emptying it, carefully placing rocks and glass and metal in the trash, putting paper and ribbon and wood aside to be burned.    
  
When that drawer was empty, she pulled out the packet of Geoffrey's letters. She sat at her desk and flipped through them, wondering how on earth she could have been so drawn in. Now that she was looking for it, she saw the flattery and the specious arguments and the soothing meaningless reassurances. She'd been a fool.    
  
She had letters from other people Geoffrey had introduced her to. She spread out the most recent letters and read them closely. In her current state of mind, every story about magic took on sinister overtones, and every wish to know her better seemed designed to manipulate her and draw her in. Even something as innocent as Geoffrey's habit of noting the time at the beginning and end of each letter suddenly seemed monstrous. She stacked the letters again and put them aside. She would read them again in a few days, when she was calmer.   
  
She was about to burn Geoffrey's letters, but some instinct or intuition stopped her. What if she needed them? In the end, she put them in her closet with the cigar boxes. She wouldn't read them any more.   
  
\---   
  
Eight months later, Helena's father died of pneumonia. Her mother was overcome with grief, so Helena offered to take care of the funeral arrangements. She walked into the undertaker's office with a stack of cigar boxes, and firmly announced that they were to be buried with her father.   
  
A week later, Helena still mourned her father, but she also felt a sense of relief. The boxes were buried now, and they would remain untouched until the people they influenced had finished their lives.   
  
Helena did decide to keep writing to Adelaide and her other magic-user friends, but she stopped writing to Geoffrey. After a while, his letters stopped. 


	17. Chapter 9

"I think this is the famous music box!" Maryam said, delightedly lifting a partially-wrapped package. She and Victoria were in the museum basement, a few days before MagicCon.    
  
Victoria dusted off her hands and hurried over. "That just leaves the first editions to find, along with all the other things to sort through," she commented.   
  
Maryam placed the box on the table and unwrapped the brown paper. It was quite a pretty box, with a geometric pattern inlaid in the lid. Maryam lifted the lid, and a tune tinkled out slowly.   
  
"It sounds like it needs to be repaired. There must be someone who repairs music boxes," said Victoria.   
  
"The box is sound, and we wouldn't play it if we put it on display, so we probably won't go to the extra expense," replied Maryam.   
  
"Are we putting it on display?" Victoria asked, rather surprised.   
  
"Didn't I tell you? This one was actually made here, by quite a famous artist. He stayed here for three months, and called himself Jem Brown to escape his adoring fans."   
  
"Then I guess we'll have to display it. Might even need a ceremony and a plaque at the local hotel, with such richly significant historical importance," Victoria drawled.   
  
Maryam chuckled. "We'll display it, at any rate." She examined the front of the box, and finally tugged at the edges and slid out a hidden drawer. A piece of white felt covered the contents, so she lifted it out.    
  
Victoria felt a tingle in her mind as she looked inside the drawer. The drawer had an assortment of odd items on it. A silver ring with a red stone, a chess king, what appeared to be a tarot card, an acorn, a bell, and a bit of embroidered ribbon. Matchsticks lay between them, making an odd web-like pattern.    
  
"How odd," Maryam said, examining the arrangement. "Perhaps she did have some dementia after all." She reached to pick up the chess king.    
  
"No, don't!" Victoria cried, reaching out to stop Maryam. _A charm_ , she belatedly realized. She'd sensed it was magic but hadn't recognized what she was sensing.    
  
Maryam looked at her oddly. "It's just a junk drawer, really. Are you okay?"    
  
Victoria took a deep breath. "I'm okay. It's...I don't know, I felt like she must have arranged these things, don't you think? And packed the felt to keep them in place. It seems...disrespectful, I guess? To move them."    
  
Maryam hesitated, and then nodded. "I suppose we could leave it as it is for now, and come back to figure out why she left it this way later."   
  
"Thanks. I expect I'm being very silly, but..." Victoria trailed off, at a loss to explain why they should leave the charm intact. She was uneasily aware that she must seem ridiculous.    
  
Maryam smiled at her. "Perhaps, but sometimes instincts have their uses. Come help me set it up for photography."    
  
It was only when they were packing up for the day that Victoria realized what the charm meant: Helena Diagio must have been a magic-user. Maybe her journal had references to magic, or even said what her charm did. She would have to read more of it.    
  
\---   
  
"Find anything interesting?" Maryam asked the next day, while Victoria was reading Helena Diagio's journal.   
  
Victoria had, in fact, found something interesting - a journal entry about a novel called _The Greater Trumps_ and how Helena had used tarot archetypes in her magic. She hadn't yet said what her charms did, and it sounded like she'd been somewhat afraid of her magic, and used it very cautiously. But of course she couldn't tell that to Maryam.   
  
"Two more recipes and a journal entry about the cost of candlesticks," she replied. "I was hoping she'd mention something about the music box, but she hasn't so far."   
  
"Oh well, she might yet. I actually wanted to ask about the embroidery exhibit idea we had a while ago. Do you think that would go over well?"   
  
Victoria put the journal down and pulled up the list of embroidered pieces she'd put together on her computer. "We have quite a few items, and there's plenty of people in town who embroider or sew. I think it could be quite popular. We have some quilts, as well, and I believe Mary Douglas from the Quilting Club has a few more she'd be willing to lend us."   
  
"Perhaps as a summer exhibit, then? We could have a few events in June, perhaps."   
  
"Certainly an opening celebration of some sort, and perhaps some workshops in embroidery and quilting. Maybe even a class - plenty of people have a little extra time during the summer," Victoria suggested, opening her calendar and flipping to June.   
  
"Excellent idea! Why don't you get in touch with Mary Douglas, then? I should draft a letter to Jim Fairbody, to let him know we'll be displaying his aunt's bequest." Maryam sat down at her own desk.   
  
"If you hold off until I hear back from Mary, we can set the date for the opening and invite him as a special donor."   
  
"That makes sense. Still, I'll draft it now. We can always send the invitation later, and it may take a while to track him down."   
  
\---   
  
"You're sure he's not in his room?" Jaya asked for the third time that Friday, as they made their way to the fourth floor of the hotel.   
  
"His schedule has him at his booth in the vendor hall now, and I saw him pass through the lobby on his way out half an hour ago," came the reply. It turned out that GRenegade's real name was Greg. He was a short man, barely out of his teens, with shaggy blond hair that made him look like a surfer.    
  
"What if there's somebody else in his room?" Jaya asked. Jaya was only a few years younger than Victoria, though her golden skin and radiant smile when she'd greeted Victoria made her look younger than she was. She wasn't smiling at the moment, though. Her eyes darted back and forth, and her lips were tight.    
  
"His hotel reservation is for a single. And we'll knock first."   
  
"What if he comes back?"   
  
"That's why I'm coming as lookout," replied Victoria. "You're not even doing anything wrong, Jaya."   
  
Jaya took a deep breath. Victoria didn't blame her for being nervous, but she'd gotten her rangoli pattern down to under two minutes, and the hotel was practically empty at one in the afternoon. They would be fine.   
  
Greg had already acquired a key card for TheJeff's room (Victoria and Jaya had both refrained from asking how) and he knocked and slipped inside smoothly enough. Victoria walked down to the corner between TheJeff's room and the elevator, and Jaya knelt and got to work.   
  
The hallway carpet was a dark red-brown at the edges, so Jaya had brought a dark brown powder which blended in beautifully. She made a few chalk marks to establish the key points of her design, loaded her chakpur, and began creating the lines of powder for her rangoli.    
  
Victoria leaned against the wall in what she hoped was a casual manner and pretended to read something on her phone, but her nerves were too keyed up for her to take anything in. The soft vibration of the chakpur sounded deafening in her head, and she jumped when the ice machine down the hall grumbled to itself as its cycle shifted. The elevator binged and whirred, and sometimes she could hear voices from people inside, but no one stopped on their floor.    
  
The chakpur stopped and the light flashed. Victoria looked up to see Jaya getting to her feet.    
  
"That was faster than I expected," Victoria commented.    
  
Jaya packed the extra powder away in her purse. "I'm so glad it worked. My hands were shaking until I actually started pouring."   
  
"Your flash of light isn't as bright as mine," Victoria commented.    
  
Jaya shrugged and started towards Victoria. "I've never had a chance to compare. I thought it was just the lights flickering the first few times."   
  
"That makes sense. Mine is pretty bright. The first time I thought it might have been lightning, but we could tell it wasn't the lights."    
  
Jaya got her phone out and held it in her hand, watching the closed room door. "Do you think Greg is okay?"    
  
Victoria looked at the clock on her phone. "It's only been a couple of minutes, although it feels longer. And it takes a few minutes to make a bed. I'm sure he's fine."    
  
Despite her reassurances, they both watched the door intently until it opened, a few minutes later.    
  
Greg looked up and grinned at them. "Fine lookouts you make, watching the room door and not the elevator."    
  
Jaya and Victoria both relaxed and smiled back. "Very inconspicuous, too, I'm sure," Victoria added.    
  
"Did it work?" Jaya asked, as they waited for the elevator.    
  
"We won't know until tomorrow, but the sheet went on just fine. I don't think he'll notice a difference. And if he does, he'll just assume housekeeping changed the sheets," Greg replied.    
  
"So now we wait," Victoria said. "Should we get something to eat? I was too nervous to eat much lunch."   
  
"That's a good idea. I'm very hungry," said Jaya, sounding a little surprised. "I saw a noodle place down the street from the front entrance."    
  
"Sounds good!"    
  
\---   
  
Victoria, Jaya, and Greg met for breakfast in the hotel lobby the next morning.    
  
"Have you seen him?" Victoria asked Greg as she sat down.   
  
Greg shut his laptop. "No, he's not up yet."    
  
"How do you know you didn't miss him?" Jaya asked, sliding into the seat and distributing Starbucks cups.    
  
"Maybe he got up early. I checked the MagicCon schedule and the vendor hall is supposed to open in twenty minutes," Victoria fretted.    
  
"No, there hasn't been any activity in his room." Greg squirmed a bit under the looks the two women gave him. "I may have left a motion detector on his door," he admitted.    
  
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Of course you did."   
  
"It's just a little one! It's set to ping my phone when the door opens. I'll turn it off after today."    
  
"What's done is done," Jaya decided. "At least we know he's still asleep."   
  
"Assuming it's working," Victoria muttered.    
  
"It seems to be working, and this model is very reliable," Greg said.    
  
Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know what else you've used it on?"    
  
"Probably not?"    
  
"Fair enough," Victoria replied, and took a bit of her bagel.    
  
Jaya checked the time. "He's supposed to be at his table, isn't he? What if we've made him oversleep?"    
  
"Hugo wakes up just fine with his alarm, despite the sleep charn," Victoria offered.    
  
"Yeah, but this is a much more extreme case," Greg pointed out. "He might sleep as long as he needs to, and that could be hours. Which is really a good thing, if you think about it."   
  
"But we're making him miss his work," Jaya said, shifting uneasily in her seat.    
  
"Why is Straight Line Magic at MagicCon anyway? Everything else seems to be about stage magic," Victoria asked. She'd wondered that when she had first read up about MagicCon, but other concerns had pushed it out of her mind.    
  
"Recruiting, same as the online advertisements. I'm not sure exactly how he does it, but he's there to look for magic-users who are trying to figure out what's going on. Attending a con like this is a little extreme, but he gets a few people most years."   
  
Victoria thought about that. "So in theory, one of us could do that?"   
  
"Yeah, probably. I know as much about the magic-user community as he does," Greg replied.    
  
"You don't have a vendor pass, or whatever they use to let people in," Jaya pointed out.    
  
"I could hack the security system and make one," Greg suggested.    
  
"You probably don't need to," Victoria said thoughtfully. "The hall is open now, after all. You could just go in with the crowd."   
  
"What if someone notices he's not the same person?" Jaya asked.   
  
Greg shrugged. "I'll tell them I'm doing it because he's not feeling well and needed to sleep in. It's even true."   
  
"You're not dressed for it," Victoria pointed out. Greg's jeans and Winnie-the-Pooh t-shirt were not exactly business wear.   
  
"I did bring a suit, just in case. Let me finish my coffee and I'll go change."   
  
"One of us can spell you in a couple hours, if you want. We may not know as much as you, but we'd manage," Victoria offered. Jaya nodded.    
  
Greg smirked and opened his mouth to speak, then obviously changed his mind about whatever he had been about to say. "I'm sure I'll be fine, but if one of you could bring me some lunch at some point?"    
  
"Sure. And I guess you'll text us if your motion detector goes off?"    
  
"I'll text you and close down the booth, and we'll go talk to him together. Maybe bring him some coffee," said Greg.    
  
"More breaking and entering?" Victoria asked.    
  
"More like mild stalking. I considered waiting for him here in the lobby, but we might miss him. Not to mention that this isn't a conversation to have in public. I sent one of my messages to him - it's probably on his phone - so he'll know we're coming." Greg swallowed the last of his coffee and stood.   
  
"Only probably?" Victoria asked, puzzled.    
  
"My messages show up on whatever computer is closest to the target. It's one of the reasons I don't use them often, since if the target is in someone else's office or something it could cause problems. There was a laptop in the room, and I assume he has a phone, but I can't be sure which it went to," Greg explained.    
  
"Okay. Well, happy hunting," Victoria said, standing also and holding out her hand.    
  
"See you later," Greg said, shaking hands with both women, and left to change and go to the vendor hall.    
  



	18. 1931

Helena stopped just before she reached the door to leave the library and retraced her steps. She had seen something out of the corner of her eye, and she didn't know what it was but it felt familiar and frightening.   
  
She walked back into the library, wondering what it had been. Nothing caught her eye in the drawers of the card catalog or behind the desk. The student researching the Great War was sitting calmly at a desk. The periodicals...she stopped.   
  
_Magazin Hanussen_ , in the foreign language rack. She picked it up. The name at the bottom was wrong - Erik Jan Hanussen, not Geoffrey. Perhaps Geoffrey had a cousin.   
  
Helena slipped through the journal. She didn't speak German, but a few words were familiar. "Seance" caught her eye, as did the names of the signs of the Zodiac. A journal about the occult, then. Perhaps it mentioned magic.    
  
Troubled, Helena kept going. The last page had an elaborate drawing which she recognized: it was one of the sigils that Geoffrey had claimed was for harvesting knowledge. Geoffrey couldn't make a charm on paper like this, she knew, but it wouldn't be hard for him to find someone who could. The charm would actually be more effective for Geoffrey that way, since he wasn't doing the magic on himself. Studying the drawing further, she recognized other sigils in the decorations: control, trust, forgetfulness. "The only vampires are human ones," Geoffrey had told her once.    
  
Helena shuddered, put the journal back on the shelf, and turned to leave. After taking two steps, she turned around and went back to hide the journal under the stack of foreign newspapers, so it wouldn't be picked up by anyone else.    
  
Two years later, Helena read in the newspaper that Erik Jan Hanussen had been assassinated. She was relieved.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik Jan Hanussen was a real person, and he did publish a German journal about the occult. He apparently had quite a lot of influence with Hitler, which may have been why he was assassinated.


	19. Chapter 10

_ Movement alert. Shutting down booth, meet you in lobby. _   
  
Victoria and Jaya turned towards the exit of the local art and craft fair they'd wandered into. Jaya moved slowly at first, working on inserting the earrings she'd just purchased.   
  
"I can't believe he slept that long," Victoria commented. "It must have been what, fourteen hours?"   
  
"The vendor hall closed at eleven, but I bet he spent some time on the Straight Line Magic forum before he went to bed. It could only be eleven or twelve hours, if he was up until two or three."   
  
"That's a truly crazy schedule."   
  
"That is why we're here."   
  
They stopped at a coffee shop and bought a cup of black coffee, a latte, and a cup of tea with honey. If they were going to corner TheJeff before he was properly awake, it was only fair that they bring him something to wake him up.   
  
Greg was pacing in the lobby, and looked relieved when they walked in. "Oh good, you're here."   
  
"Is he still in the room?" Jaya asked.   
  
"Yes. He hasn't texted me, but he hasn't left either. That's probably a good sign."   
  
Once they got in the elevator, Greg motioned towards the tray of drinks. "Who is that for?"   
  
"They're all for him. We didn't know what he drinks, so..." Jaya explained.    
  
Greg nodded jerkily. "Right. Good." He fidgeted with his hands, but seemed to calm down when the elevator stopped and they stepped into the hall.    
  
"Are you nervous?" Victoria asked. Greg hadn't shown any nervousness about the earlier, much more illegal, part of this adventure, but he seemed very nervous now.    
  
Greg shrugged. "This - talking to people, having actual hard conversations - isn't really my strong suit."    
  
"I can understand that," said Jaya.   
  
They'd gotten to the hotel room door. Greg was in front, and Victoria and Jaya waited for him to knock, but he didn't. After a moment, Victoria stepped forward and knocked on the door.    
  
The man who answered the door was dressed, but still bleary-eyed, and his gray hair stuck up on one side where he hadn't had a chance to comb it down yet. He looked them all over, then focused on Greg. "Are you GRenegade? What's this about?"    
  
"I...yes, I'm GRenegade. My name is Greg, this is Victoria and Jaya. Could we come in? We wanted to talk to you about the website."    
  
"I'm Jeff. You might as well come in." Jeff stepped aside and held the door open.    
  
Greg entered, darting looks at the others, and stood indeterminately in the center of the room. Jaya stepped carefully over her rangoli to get in, and crossed to sit on the couch.    
  
Victoria stepped through the doorway and offered the tray of drinks to Jeff. "We brought coffee and tea, since it's our fault you can't get your own. What would you like?"    
  
"Thank goodness," Jeff muttered, reaching for the black coffee. He took a sip and seemed slightly more alert. He drifted back towards the bed and picked up his phone, checking the time. "I can't think how I overslept this much. I haven't done that in years. I was supposed to be downstairs hours ago."    
  
"Actually, I filled in for you. We only got one, but he seemed excited to sign up. He has some sort of fire magic - we couldn't discuss details," Greg said. He backed up and leaned against the table.    
  
Jeff looked oddly at Greg. "Thanks, I suppose."   
  
"Greg didn't really introduce us properly," said Jaya, trying to get the conversation rolling. "I'm SouthernJaya on the Straight Line forums, and Victoria is SleepyBug."    
  
"SleepyBug! So you found her?" Jeff asked Greg.    
  
Greg looked confused. "Was I looking for her?"    
  
"I sent you messages, asking you to see if you could trace her. At least...I'm pretty sure I did. I get so tired, it's hard to keep track."    
  
Greg snorted. "You've sent me a few incoherent rants from time to time. I usually have no idea what you are asking. I don't read them any more."    
  
"Oh." Jeff took another sip of coffee. "Sorry about that. George wanted to know where she was when the admin thingy didn't know."    
  
"That's actually sort of why we're here," Victoria said. "We're concerned that you've been overwhelmed by the needs of the website, and as a result we think you've gotten into some bad habits."    
  
"We did use some magic on you," Jaya put in. "I know it's not exactly polite, but at least we're being honest about it. Victoria added a sleep charm to the sheet on the bed, and there's a rangoli near the door to combat something called the self-herding bias. We're not forcing you to do anything or think a certain way, just giving you a chance to step back and take a good look at things."   
  
Jeff grumbled a bit, but sat down on the bed. "So? What am I taking a look at?" he asked, somewhat belligerently.    
  
Greg leaned forward. He seemed much calmer, now that they'd finally broached the topic. "I've heard the stories about some of the things you did for the magic-user community when you first joined the website, like getting everyone to help people who were in trouble or helping brainstorm new ways to use people's gifts. But you haven't done that since you took over. You seem to spend most of your time shutting down any conversation that mentions magic outside the structure of the forum. It's not kind to the users, and it's not helpful to our community."   
  
Jeff rested his chin on his fist. "You're right, I suppose, but I just don't have the time anymore. I'm up all hours as it is, and George is so insistent that we respond to everything in a timely manner...." Suddenly he looked up at Jaya. "SouthernJaya. Weren't you banned?"   
  
"Yes, you banned me because I said the lexicon images did not work for me," Jaya replied, her voice tight.   
  
"Right, I remember. George said we had to ban you. I don't really remember why."   
  
"And that's the point. You're banning people without good reason," Greg said. He would have continued, but Jeff held up his hand.    
  
"Just...just give me a minute, okay?" Jeff asked.   
  
Greg subsided, and for a few minutes there was quiet. Jeff seemed to be thinking deeply. After a few minutes, he pulled out his phone and started flicking through messages, looking more worried with every one.   
  
"I've been...fairly terrible, haven't I?" he finally concluded. "I was so excited at first, and George has some high standards, but he said he'd get someone else to moderate and share the load, and the website started picking up, and...I just wasn't thinking straight."    
  
"George is Snowleopard, right? Is he still in charge? It sounded like he'd had you take over," Victoria asked.    
  
"Oh no, I just took over the day to day stuff so he could focus on research, George is still the one who makes most of the big decisions and writes the articles and things." Jeff continued to flick through his phone.    
  
"The articles have no by line," Jaya commented, drifting over towards the desk, which had a laptop and several notebooks and papers stacked on it.    
  
"So you ran the forum and George wrote the articles. Did you collaborate on anything else?" Greg asked.    
  
"I...well, I guess I shouldn't have, but George asked me to visit a few people and watch them without their knowledge. Not for long, and I never knew why, but he said it was important. I guess it sounds bad," Jeff replied, shame-faced.    
  
"I think it's pretty clear that you weren't entirely yourself," Jaya put in gently.    
  
"Who did George have you spy on?" Greg asked, business-like.    
  
Jeff got up and started to pace. "Let me think. Honestly, it's all rather blurry. It was PurlGirl once, and SilverFox, and Sasuke, and....oh. Oh. Oh no, no, no.…" Jeff sat down abruptly, obviously overcome. He looked horrified.    
  
"What is it?"    
  
"I....what was I thinking? How could I do that? It...I'd forgotten, pretended it wasn't real. Oh my...."   
  
Victoria stepped forward and sat next to Jeff, putting her hand on his arm. "I think we need to know," she said softly.    
  
Jeff raised his head to look at her. His face was pale, but his back was straight with determination. "His name was Zaire, Zaire Morris. He went by SkyHulk," he began.    
  
"I remember SkyHulk - he joined the site a couple years ago, maybe. He could change how tall he was, or something like that. He stopped posting after a while, but he'd always been kind of combative, so I figured he'd just left," Greg interjected.    
  
Jeff shook his head. "George said he was perfect, a useless power and no connections. He sent me to spy on him several times, and then....he wanted to meet him, he said, and see if they could talk calmly. He gave me something - a white tablet - to put in Zaire's drink. Zaire fell unconscious, and I brought him to George's house. I...that's the last time I ever saw or heard from him."   
  
Greg had pulled out his phone. "Where did Zaire live?" he asked.    
  
"Philadelphia. I don't remember the address."    
  
Greg searched for a few minutes. "He's listed as missing. Doesn't look like they ever found him."    
  
"Sounds like there wasn't anything to find," Victoria said. She was feeling shaken: they had come to deal with a minor bully and suddenly found themselves learning about a possible murder.    
  
As bad as Victoria felt, Jeff looked far worse. His hands were shaking and he sobbed a little on every breath.    
  
"I can't believe...what was I thinking? I must have been out of my mind," he said, his head in his hands.    
  
"You may actually have been. What is this?" Jaya asked. She held up a notebook she'd found on the desk. The cover was painted with an image of a pretty girl with wings, wearing a green dress and carrying a leaf-shaped silver wand.   
  
Jeff looked up. "George gave that to me when we started working together. It has stuff about the guidelines he uses for the website, some of his magical research, things like that. The cover is a charm to help me focus."   
  
Jaya handed the book to Victoria. "The cover is a charm, but I don't think it's helping you focus. That silver thing is an absinthe spoon, and The Green Fairy was a nickname for absinthe, back when it was popular."   
  
Greg looked a little puzzled, but Victoria got it. "Absinthe causes madness, doesn't it?"   
  
"It was said to, though it probably didn't. But charm imagery isn't necessarily literal - it might make Jeff suggestible rather than insane, or something like that. In any case, I bet he's better off without it."   
  
"George changes the color of things, doesn't he? He can't have made it," Victoria pointed out.   
  
Jeff shook his head. "No, he lies about his gift on the website. He says it's so he won't intimidate people. He's a shapeshifter - he can change his body to look like whoever he wants."   
  
"So how did he make the charm?"    
  
"I would guess he didn't," Jaya said. "He probably had someone make it for him, just like he took advantage of Jeff's magic."   
  
Greg flopped onto the couch and groaned. "Terrific. Just terrific. What do we do now?"   
  
"Can we call the police?" Victoria asked.   
  
"Jeff would get arrested too," Greg pointed out.   
  
Jeff shrugged. He was slumped over now, as if he planned to give up and sit on the bed forever. "It's not like I don't deserve it."   
  
"Even with your testimony, it wouldn't work," Victoria decided. "The police won't believe it without proof, and we don't have any. There's no connection between you and Zaire and George, and you live in different parts of the country. If we found the body, there might be a chance, but he's probably got yet another oh-so-useful charm lying around to take care of the body."   
  
"We'd have to tell the police about magic, and that doesn't seem wise. Who knows what would happen?" Jaya pointed out.   
  
"Not to mention that he's a shapeshifter, so the police have no way of identifying him. For that matter, we have no way of identifying him," said Greg from the couch.   
  
"I don't suppose you know anyone who can magically locate people?" Victoria asked.   
  
"Nope."   
  
Jeff shifted. "I don't either. I can teleport if I know the location, but I have to find the location the normal way. I suppose I could go back to the house where I dropped Zaire off, but George moves around a lot."   
  
"Greg, couldn't you find his computer?" Victoria asked.   
  
Greg considered. "Probably. Depends on how paranoid he is. So maybe we can locate him."   
  
"Even if we can locate him, what do we do? I don't want to kill anyone," said Jaya.   
  
Everyone was silent. Jaya made an excellent point: none of them were killers, and they didn't have any sort of magical prison.   
  
"We don't even know he's guilty, not really. Manipulating Jeff was wrong, but not a capital offense. And we don't know what happened to Zaire - he may have died by accident, or attacked George and been killed in self-defense, or died at home somehow. He might even be alive," Victoria said.   
  
"So we need to know more about him and what he's doing," Jeff concluded.   
  
Greg stood up and reached for his phone again. "So it's time for research. I'll go get my laptop, so I can work on hacking his accounts. Jaya, why don't you go through those papers and see if there's anything useful - unless there's anything private there, Jeff?"   
  
Jeff shook his head. "Nothing private, but I don't think anything there will be useful. And if there is anything, it might not be true."   
  
"I'll go through it anyway. You never know," Jaya said, sitting down at the desk.   
  
Greg nodded. "You never know. Victoria and Jeff, why don't you make a list of what Jeff knows about George, especially anything he saw at George's house when he was there."   
  
Victoria got up to get Jeff's laptop and brought it back to the bed. "Okay, Jeff. Should we start with the visit?"    
  



	20. April

Grace tore her page, allowing Fluffy out of the cereal bowl she'd put him in. She'd been curious about the limits of her magic, and had decided that a small amount of experimenting on animals was acceptable.   
  
It had started with a fly. A house fly had found its way into her office, and the buzzing had been driving her crazy. She could see it occasionally, when it stopped, but she couldn't catch it or kill it.   
  
After several futile attempts, Grace had pulled out a half-finished pattern and drawn the fly on a flat surface, cleaning itself, in one of the spaces. She'd finished the pattern and the charm had activated, grounding the fly.   
  
Grace had planned to kill the fly, but it had occurred to her that this might be a good opportunity. The Charm Renegade site had an article about destruction of charms, and all the things that might happen. Sometimes destroying a charm did nothing, sometimes it canceled the charm, sometimes it hurt the magic-user or the target or both. Since she intended to kill the fly anyway, this was as safe an opportunity to test it as she would get.   
  
Of course, if tearing the charm didn't kill the fly, it would be driving her crazy again. Grace set the charm aside on her desk.   
  
Just before she left, Grace tore the charm in half. The fly immediately flew up and banged into the window. Grace left.   
  
After that, Grace had bought a hamster from the pet store and named it Fluffy. Using Fluffy, she determined that she could use a charm to make Fluffy go somewhere or perform an action, but it had to be a place he was capable of getting to on his own or an action he would normally perform at some point. If she made a charm and un-made it by erasing a few lines, it was just as effective when she drew the lines in again. And so on.   
  
It really was, she reflected, the ideal way to have a pet. She could bring Fluffy out and play with him without worrying that he might run away. She could get Fluffy to sit in various containers so she could take photos to put on the internet. When her brother visited during his walks with his dog, she could use a charm to keep Fluffy calm and sleepy despite the presence of the dog. And so on.   
  
She'd told Ethan about her magic gift, since he already knew about their mother's ability. They had agreed that it made sense not to tell anyone else; her gift was minor, and she certainly wasn't about to use it on humans.   
  
Fluffy climbed up her arm, and she gave him a piece of cereal.    



	21. Chapter 11

"What do you want to know?" Jeff asked.   
  
"Let's start with George himself. What did he look like? How old was he? If he's a shapeshifter then it may not mean very much, but I think it's worth considering," Victoria said.   
  
"White guy, salt and pepper hair, tall, pretty normal looking really. He was dressed very nicely: suit and tie and pocket square. He looked like he was in his late sixties or early seventies, but I'm not sure how useful that is. I think he referred once to something that happened in the Great War, and if he meant WWI, that would imply he's at least a hundred years old."   
  
"Did he have any sort of accent?"   
  
"Yes, but I couldn't place it. He didn't say much, just told me where to put Zaire."   
  
"What about the house? Where was it, what did it look like?"   
  
"I have the address somewhere, it was outside Atlanta, Georgia. I only ever saw the one room. It was a living room, I think. There were a couple of couches and things. The floor was covered by a huge cloth - I thought it was a carpet at first, but it was smooth, not fluffy. It was definitely a charm, but I don't know what it did. It was red and black and white, with a pattern with lots of big circles woven into it."   
  
"Do you think you could sketch it? It might be important."   
  
Jeff hesitated. "I'll have a try, but I don't think so. I'd know it again if I saw it."   
  
Victoria noted that down. "Anything else?"   
  
"There was also a painting on the wall that was a charm. It looked like a farm scene, with people working in a field. I didn't get a good look at it."   
  
"Okay, let's talk about your interactions with him in general. I take it they were mostly email or messaging?"   
  
Jeff nodded. "There were some letters, and he sent me a few books. Jaya will find them. I have the addresses he sent them from written down too. But it was mostly email and messaging. Well, mostly messaging really. He has the habit of noting the time he started and finished letters and emails, so I have this theory that he likes messaging because it timestamps every line. I don't know if that's true though."   
  
"So he's obsessed with time, that's interesting." Victoria added it to her list.   
  
The conversation continued.   
  
\---   
  
They stopped after a while to get something to eat. Afterwards, Jeff and Victoria went to the vendor hall to continue their conversation in between talking to attendees, and Jaya and Greg continued their research. They met again for dinner and compared notes.    
  
"I wish we could pin down how old he is," Jaya complained. "He looks seventy now. We have that mention of listening to the radio during WWI, which would make him over a hundred. If the absinthe charm was painted during the heyday of absinthe, that would make him older still, since he had to be old enough to get whoever made it to make it for him. We have a handful of other historical references in his messages and letters which might mean he's even older than that, but they also just might mean he likes history."   
  
"He believes in being prepared, too. Most modern sedatives are made with dye in them, so they can't be used covertly. The tablet he gave to Jeff was probably older than those rules, which means he found a way to get a bunch and stockpile them," Victoria said.    
  
"There's still ways to buy them, if you know the right people," Greg said.    
  
"But an old stockpile is more likely, especially if the absinthe charm is also old," Victoria said firmly. "Were you able to hack his accounts?"    
  
Greg shrugged. "I got in and took a look around. He doesn't put most things on his computer; he must handle his finances and things on paper. He didn't even have any music. Dude writes a ton of emails, though. I took a skim through them, but it's mostly the same stuff he does through Straight Line Magic - getting new magic-users, finding out what they can do, making introductions or offering ideas. Victoria mentioned that his articles tend to have a "Magic-users uber alles" slant, and that's in his emails too. I did see one exchange where someone had killed someone by accident - they'd been tricked into stepping into traffic - and George was explaining how it wasn't her fault and the target shouldn't have been so stupid and anyway it was a great destiny and all that junk. Kind of creepy, really."   
  
Jeff nodded. "He was always very good at talking me out of whatever scruples I felt. And I think after a while I got used to listening to him, and then he could talk me into more."    
  
"Any other signs of undue influence?" Victoria asked.    
  
Greg shrugged. "I'm not sure what counts as undue, really. He's good at people. I did see him offering to play matchmaker for a few people, which is kind of messed up, but it didn't sound like he was trying to force anything or anything like that."    
  
"Is magic genetically passed?" Jaya asked.    
  
"I wondered that myself. The articles on Straight Line Magic weren't very clear," said Victoria.    
  
"They aren't clear because we don't know," Jeff said. "I don't remember all the statistics of it all, but it seems like sometimes it runs in families and sometimes it doesn't. We don't know what triggers the onset of magic, either - I was 52 when I teleported for the first time, and going through a nasty divorce, but plenty of people have their first time far earlier or far later, and without any particular stress."   
  
Greg snorted. Victoria ignored him. "I guess he's not trying to establish some sort of breeding program, then," she said.    
  
"Didn't look like it," Greg agreed. "Just lots and lots of talking to people."    
  
"Talking to people may be plenty," Jaya pointed out. "People respond to people who take an interest in them, who listen to their concerns. George positions himself as the one all these people turn to for advice and guidance, and he makes use of that. He's good at identifying their weaknesses, and he's good at making use of them."   
  
Jeff nodded. "I think there might be more to it, though," he started, and then seemed unsure of how to continue.    
  
"More than just talking? We know there was in your case," said Victoria.    
  
"No, more than just influence and making use of people. I can't...I can't put my finger on it, but reviewing everything I know about him today, I get this feeling...like he has some sort of goal, or plan, beyond just knowing lots of people."   
  
They sat quietly for a moment, considering.   
  
Eventually, Greg shrugged. "I didn't see anything like that, but that doesn't mean you're wrong. He probably just doesn't discuss it with anyone."   
  
Jaya began flipping through her notes. "I can't say I know what he has in mind, but I will say I'm not surprised that there's something. Some of the language he uses - he thinks in very grand terms. He wants to build a legacy, re-shape the world. You mentioned an obsession with time, which may also be significant. It implies a determination to make use of every minute, and probably a very utilitarian view of life. Honestly, I suspect there's a lot of ruthlessness hiding under the surface."   
  
"He's ruthless, all right," Jeff murmured, rubbing his hand across his face.    
  
"We are discussing a world that includes magic," Victoria noted. "So it's possible that he also has some way of extending time, or is looking for one. It's even possible that he timestamps everything because he's monkeying with time somehow. Keeping track of the timeline is often an issue in stories with time travel."    
  
"Those are just stories," Jeff said.    
  
Victoria shrugged. "They're still useful. It's like having a million authors brainstorming with you."    
  
"What's bothering me," Jaya said, "is that he shows intense interest in the workings and limits of other people's magic, even when he has no particular use for them."   
  
"Maybe he just likes knowing things," Greg suggested.    
  
Jaya bit her lip. "Maybe, but his research notes tend to be focused on maximizing the power of magic - making everything more efficient and more effective. I don't get the impression that he does research for its own sake."   
  
"That is odd," Victoria agreed. "Why so many questions about how other gifts work if he can't use them and doesn't have the same gift? It helps with the advice-giving, of course, and it may just be a way to make people feel important. Most people like to be asked questions about themselves, after all."   
  
"Yes, but George's policy was that knowing how a gift worked was more important than how people felt. He wanted me to keep asking questions, even if people seemed uncomfortable with them or didn't want to discuss their magic," Jeff put in.    
  
"That's true in his private correspondence as well, though he was very good at flattering them or soothing them so they didn't stop answering entirely. He really devoted some of his best efforts into getting people to experiment with their magic and tell him the results," Greg noted.    
  
"So if Jaya is right about his utilitarian view, he thinks he can use that knowledge somehow. Maybe has some idea about finding a way to combine gifts, or steal gifts from other people?" Victoria suggested.   
  
"That might fit," Jeff said, considering.   
  
Victoria opened a new page in her notes. "So, we have someone who can change his appearance, of indeterminate age but definitely older than any of us. He goes to a great deal of trouble to maintain influence over many magic-users. He may or may not be able to time-travel. He has some sort of larger plan (I know you were uncertain about that, Jeff, but you know him best), which might include allowing him to use other people's gifts or become unusually powerful."   
  
"And he probably killed Zaire Morris," said Greg.   
  
"Even if he didn't kill Zaire, he definitely had him kidnapped, in part because his power was relatively useless. He's clearly dangerous," said Jaya.    
  
"So what do we do now?" asked Jeff.    
  



	22. 1932

Helena was in her forties when she used magic again.   
  
It started with a novel, _The Greater Trumps_ by Charles Williams. It was an odd book, as much about the interplay between the characters and the tarot archetypes they fit as it was about the characters' actions and struggles.   
  
Helena hadn't thought about her magic in years, but she found herself playing with the patterns in her mind in the days after reading _The Greater Trumps._ The idea of incorporating archetypal roles just felt right, somehow.   
  
It would still allow for free will, she thought. No two individuals expressed a given archetype in the same way, after all. She could (in theory) move someone into a position of prosperity, put them into a new role, but still allow them to make their own choices, albeit within that role. She could direct them to a new path, but let them do the walking.    
  
Even so, she wouldn't have pursued the matter if she hadn't visited her sister. Phoebe had married Jim Fairbody two years before, and Helena had recently begun to suspect that her sister was not as happy in her marriage as Helena had hoped.   
  
Helena's suspicions were sadly correct. Jim had become quite abusive, creating strict rules for Phoebe and punishing her if she did not follow them exactly. Phoebe, as it turned out, was pregnant, and was afraid that Jim would someday harm her baby also.    
  
Helena spent a lot of time listening during that long visit. She listened to her sister, listened to her dreams for her family and her stories about their courtship and, after much coaxing, what had happened since. Helena also spent as much time as she could with Jim, listening to him talk about his family and his dreams and his life.   
  
Helena thought over and over about how best to help. She found she could not leave Phoebe and her child in this situation. If Jim someday killed her sister or her nephew when Helena could have prevented it, she knew she would feel terribly guilty. So she had to do something, but she wanted her interference to be a subtle as possible.   
  
The archetypes danced in her head, circling and dipping but never settling into place. After reading _The Greater Trumps_ , Helena had tried learning more about tarot, but the books hadn't felt right and the cards had somehow felt sticky against her fingers. She would have to find her own archetypes.   
  
The key, finally, came from a comment Phoebe made. "I saw him as a king that day," she said, at the end of a story about a time Jim had taken charge of a tense situation and defused it.   
  
Helena considered it. Jim did have it in him to be a king; he cared for his people, had a strong sense of responsibility, and could often see what had to happen. But somehow the king had become a tyrant.   
  
King and tyrant were two sides of the same coin, really. The tyrant was the reversed expression of king. A tiny change would make a great difference.   
  
Helena found a cigar box. Slowly, carefully, the pattern came together. She drew the archetypes on paper tokens, and positioned selected beads and pebbles as the people nearby. Herself as the fool in the center of the pattern. Jim as the tyrant, Phoebe as the captive. The baby as a lamb, Jim's parents as a mountain, JIm's boss as a snake, Helena's mother as a bird. One by one, the pieces took their places.   
  
The last day of her visit, Helena placed the matchsticks and flipped the tyrant token to reveal the king on the other side. The light flashed, and when she looked she found that three other changes had happened: the baby's token had changed to a child, a ram token had appeared nearby, and Phoebe's had changed to woman triumphant.   
  
Some months later, Helena received a letter from Phoebe and Jim. They had included a photo for her: Phoebe, and Jim, and little Jim, Jr., all of them glowing with life and happiness. It had worked.    



	23. Chapter 12

"...And that's about the size of it," Victoria concluded. She and Hugo were curled up in their usual position on the living room couch, and she'd been telling him about what had happened at MagicCon. Victoria lifted her mug of tea and took a sip, glad to find it was still fairly warm despite how long she'd been talking.    
  
"That's a doozy," Hugo replied. He took a sip of his own tea.   
  
"In some ways, you're essentially back where you started," he pointed out after thinking quietly for a few minutes. "You still have someone in a position of authority in the magic-user community who is abusing that authority and hurting the community."   
  
"Except that now we have no reason to believe he's a decent man who just got overwhelmed. We have evidence of systematic manipulation, not to mention possibly murder. A sleep charm isn't going to help," said Victoria.   
  
"He's also more subtle about his abuses, and more resourceful. You wouldn't get much support if you tried to...I don't know, put it to a vote or stage a coup or something."   
  
"True."   
  
They sat in silence for a while longer.   
  
"The good thing is, he doesn't know we're onto him. Jeff and Jaya worked out a plan for slowly making changes in how he runs the site, and with any luck George will think it was an organic change. Jeff is going to bring Jaya on as a new moderator, along with a couple other people (he's been asking George to do so for ages, so it shouldn't be a surprise if he finally just does it, even without permission) and they're going to be reworking the various policies and inviting people who were banned to re-join under new usernames. If George asks about the notebook, Jeff will say he's put it in storage. It should work."   
  
"George might try another charm, or some other plan," Hugo pointed out.   
  
"That's true, but he doesn't know Greg and Jaya and I are involved. And we're trying to think of a way to stop him properly anyway. If Jeff is right that he's building up to something, we probably don't want to wait and find out what it is the hard way."   
  
"Can Greg contact some of the people George has been emailing and warn them?" Hugo asked.   
  
Victoria stared thoughtfully into her tea, as if it held all the answers. "You know, we never considered that. I assume he is capable of it - really, it's just a matter of sending emails, so any of us would be capable of doing it - but I'm not at all sure it's a good idea. If we couldn't persuade them, they might warn George."   
  
"Yeah, that's a real danger. Still, it might make sense to go through the emails and see if anyone is already wary of him. If you can persuade anyone, it might be really helpful."   
  
"That's true. Someone in that position might even be able to find out what he's really trying to do, if George wants them badly enough, or if they can get him to brag a bit. I'll suggest it to the others."   
  
"And you never know, you might find someone with magic villain-stopping powers," Hugo joked.   
  
"Actually, we think that might be the real reason Jaya got banned: George didn't want her making people able to think straight and see through his manipulations. But she says she probably can't move against him directly. 'Rational people aren't always nice,'" Victoria explained, quoting her friend.   
  
"What if Greg messaged those people and Jaya helped them see straight?" Hugo suggested.   
  
"I suppose we could, but it would take forever. And really, we'd rather not break the law more than necessary. Hotels are at least public places, and we were nervous enough about that. I'll keep it in mind, but I really hope once was enough."   
  
"Yeah, me too. Posting bail for you isn't actually on my bucket list."   
  
"So we'll think, and we'll do what we can, and I guess in the meantime we'll get on with life. Whatever he's planning, we probably have plenty of time before anything urgent happens," Victoria said. She leaned her head back on Hugo's shoulder. "So, how was the weekend? Did Ethan and Grace do anything interesting?"   
  
\---   
  
"How was your weekend?" Maryam asked the next morning, when Victoria arrived at the office.   
  
"Quite interesting, actually. I had a little business in the city and ended up visiting MagicCon, of all places. I only saw the vendor hall, but of course many of them were demonstrating their tricks and effects, and it was a great deal of fun. How was yours?" Victoria booted up her laptop and opened the general inquiries email account. There were quite a few messages to be answered, since she'd been gone for a few days.    
  
"Pleasant enough. The boys are driving me crazy, but that's children for you." Maryam turned back to her own work.    
  
For a while the office was quiet, except for the clicking of the keyboards. Victoria made her way through the inquiries: two people wanted to know about the membership costs (and also to hint about a discount), one wanted to know how many adults could be on an account and whether children were allowed to interact with the exhibits, one wanted to know whether there would be watercolor classes during the spring, and one was from a rather confused lady who wanted to buy a refrigerator. Victoria answered the first three readily enough (mostly by copying what was on the website), made a note to talk to Sybil Hsu about whether she wanted to run classes again the year, and explained to the confused lady that museums do not have refrigerators. She seriously considered deleting her usual email signature from the last email, since she was sure the lady would call if she included her number. 

Maryam snorted at something on her computer.

Victoria glanced over. “Something wrong?”

“The mayor wants me to write a letter of recommendation to get the Pyramid Foundation to come here.”

Victoria frowned. “That's the new educational program they're talking about, isn't it? Has it even started yet?”

“They're still figuring out how it will work and where the money will come from, so no, it hasn't started. And I doubt we will qualify when it does, and even if we do I'm not sure what I have to do with anything,” Maryam replied, in tones of disgust.

“Have fun explaining that, then,” Victoria joked, and turned back to her own work.

  
There were even more emails to send from her personal account. Mary Douglas was delighted to loan several quilts of local historical interest, and they had to arrange for the delivery and appropriate insurance. Mary had also included a list of local women who were comfortable teaching quilting, if they wanted to run workshops. Victoria was concerned that quilting would take too much space, but perhaps if the workshops made quite small projects, it would work okay. In any case, they had no sewing machines, so the quilts would have to be sewn by hand, which meant smaller projects would be a sensible choice. Victoria emailed several of the women Mary had suggested, and made a note to find out what supplies would be needed and how much they could budget for it. Helena Diagio's collection had had quite a lot of clothing, most of it of no particular interest. Perhaps the quilters could use some of that fabric.    
  
June 9th had been selected as the Opening Celebration for the historical fiber arts exhibit. Victoria emailed Joy about providing snacks, Katie Law about coming up with a better name for it (and designing invitations and flyers once they had one), and Mary again to ask if she would want to say a few words, as president of the Quilting Club.    
  
Once those were done, Victoria found herself temporarily with nothing in particular to do. Her eye fell on Helena Diagio's journal, and she picked it up to read more of it.   
  
The journal continued to be mostly irrelevant minutiae. Victoria flipped through clippings on local politics, a knitting pattern, and an advertisement for a new kind of pickling salt with the handwritten note "Martha swears by this" in the margin. A faded photo of a woman with a small boy labeled "Phoebe and Jim" caught her eye. Phoebe was Helena's sister, Maryam had confirmed, so this must be Jim Fairbody, the infamous nephew.   
  
Staring at the journal page, Victoria's mind drifted back to George and the situation she and her friends were up against. The task seemed impossible. They had no way to contain him or stop him, and no way to pin him down long enough to find a way. If he was a shapeshifter, he could change his face and disappear. He moved around enough as it was; he would move again if he thought they might get close, and they would have no way to track him.   
  
Victoria wondered if Helena had known George. It was likely that George had written letters before computers were common as abundantly as he wrote emails now, and Helena did have magic. Her magic seemed quite powerful, too, and George liked powerful gifts. On the other hand, Helena seemed reluctant to even write about her magic, so perhaps she hadn't been interested in finding other magic-users.   
  
"Is that Helena?"   
  
Victoria jumped. She'd been lost in thought and hadn't noticed that Maryam had come over to her desk. Collecting herself, she held out the book so Maryam could see the photo.   
  
"It's labeled 'Phoebe and Jim'. We should reproduce it for the exhibit, since she made one of the samplers," Victoria suggested.   
  
"That's an excellent idea. Keep up the good work - there may be more of them," said Maryam.    
  
Victoria reached for a sticky note to mark the page, then thought better of it and pulled out an index card instead. "Did you want something?" she asked.    
  
"If you're free, I thought we could work on the Diagio collection a little more."   
  
Victoria closed the journal, leaving both the index card and her bookmark at the page with the photo, and checked her email to make sure there wasn't anything urgent. "Sure, I'm free."   
  
"Have we settled on a name for the June 9th event? I'd like to send Mr. Fairbody that letter and invitation," Maryam asked as they made their way down.   
  
"I've emailed Katie about it, and I hope to pick something by tomorrow. Invitations may take longer, depending on how busy she is."   
  
"Of course."   
  
They passed the rows of shelves. Maryam had already dedicated one rack to the fiber arts exhibit, and had pulled several samplers and embroidered items from the collection and moved them to the exhibit shelf. Victoria knew that Maryam had also borrowed or bought several books on the history of embroidery and quilting in America, and was working her way through them as preparation for creating the informative placards that would introduce each item.   
  
Helena's music box was on a shelf in the last row, and Victoria almost stopped to look at it. She caught herself and the last moment and moved on, not wanting to bring Maryam's attention to it. Sooner or later Maryam would want to clean out the charm in the hidden drawer, and Victoria hoped it would be later.   
  
She really should find a way to figure out what that charm does. Helena may have written about it in her journal, but what if she hadn't? What had impelled her to make a charm when she was clearly reluctant to use magic?   
  
While she helped Maryam set up the camera and pull out the first box, it occurred to Victoria to wonder what Sketchbooker would make of it. She'd have to ask if Sketchbooker's gift worked when she sketched from photos. Of course, it might just show Helena with the box, but it might show something more interesting.   
  
"I do believe these are the first editions," Maryam exclaimed, pulling a stack of books from the box.   
  
"Not more cookbooks?" Victoria joked. Maryam had gotten very excited about a stack of large books a few weeks before, only to have them turn out to be cookbooks. Some of them were quite interesting cookbooks, but they had certainly not been the first editions.    
  
"No, I can see the titles. Here's a few by Mark Twain, and this one is Jules Verne.…." Maryam trailed off, examining the books.    
  
Victoria pulled out her phone. "A quick online search indicates they may be worth a couple hundred dollars each, so that would be nice. Are we allowed to sell them?"    
  
"Some of them are a little damaged, but they're mostly in quite good condition," Maryam commented. "Aron Finch did finally send me the terms of the bequest - we're allowed to sell the books and the vases and anything that was donated by Jim Fairbody. We are required to keep the contents of the music box as they are, so it's just as well you stopped me from clearing them out. Personally I think she must have intended to put something else there, and I doubt anyone would protest if I did empty it, but we'll follow the instructions anyway."   
  
Maryam sounded a little exasperated by the need to keep the music box as it was, but Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. The charm would stay intact.    
  
"Well, let's photograph the books. I wonder if there's a good way to offer them for sale locally? We might not get quite as much, but we'd save on shipping, and it would generate goodwill," Victoria suggested.    
  
"There's a rare books and antiques store on Almond Street. I've visited occasionally, when they have something the museum might be interested in. We got that school workbook that's in the schoolhouse section upstairs from them, actually. We could give them a call."   
  
"That makes sense. They probably know the local collectors," Victoria agreed.    
  
The books were photographed, documented, and shelved, and Maryam moved on to the next box. It proved to contain silverware, dish soap, and oddly enough, a box of pickling salt.    
  



	24. 1962

Helena wandered down the train, ostensibly heading for the restaurant car, but in reality just stretching her legs. She was on her way to visit Phoebe and George and their son, and to meet Jim, Jr.'s new fiancee. The trip had been tiring, but Jim Jr. would meet her at the station and drive her the rest of the way in comfort.   
  
A familiar flash of light caught her eye from one of the compartments, and she stopped to see if she could identify who had just worked magic. She hadn't talked to another magic-user in years. Adelaide had passed away some years before, and her friendships with the two other people Geoffrey had introduced her to had attenuated over time, especially since she wasn't using her own magic. Without Geoffrey to introduce her to them, she had not found a way to locate more magic-users.   
  
Only one man was in the compartment, and he was facing away from her, smoothing down his blond hair. As he shifted with the train's motion, she caught a glimpse of lines drawn in quickly-fading fog on the window.   
  
"Geoffrey?" she asked, surprised.   
  
The man turned around, and she immediately thought she must have made a mistake. This man was in his forties, substantially younger than she was. She was about to excuse herself and retreat, but he smiled and held out his hand.   
  
"Indeed! How do you do, Miss...?" he asked.    
  
"Oh, I...Excuse me, but I confess I pictured a rather older man. I'm quite surprised," Helena explained.    
  
"Ah, but I have always looked much younger than I am. The privileges of magic, you know. Forgive me, but I do not know who you are," Geoffrey replied.    
  
Helena had been thinking furiously, as she did not want to tell him who she was. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just startled. I was friends with Adelaide Marchand, before her passing. I don't know if she ever mentioned me," she said.    
  
"You must be Violetta! What a pleasant surprise. I confess I had forgotten the door had a window, which doubtless gave me away, but now I cannot regret my error!" He gestured toward one of the seats, inviting her to sit down.   
  
Helena did not want to sit down, but she couldn't see a way to avoid it. She sat, moving carefully so the motion of the train would not cause her to fall. As she finally looked up to face Geoffrey, he was returning a pocket watch to his breast pocket.   
  
"Where are you living now?" she asked. "I remember Adelaide said you moved around quite a bit." Helena had been surprised when Geoffrey had moved from New York to Philadelphia shortly after they began exchanging letters, and Adelaide had explained that Geoffrey never stayed in one city for long.    
  
"I do indeed. I find I tire of places quickly, and as I have no one to please but myself, I move when I wish. At the moment I am based in St. Louis, but I plan to move to Florida before very long."   
  
"The warm climate there should be very pleasant," Helena commented.   
  
"I expect it to be, yes. But more important to me is the importance of Miami to my own work and to the magical community."   
  
"I didn't know Miami was magically important," Helena asked, trying to look politely interested. She felt her hands shaking and clasped them together in her lap.   
  
"It has its uses, yes. And of course I hope to find new magic-users there, and build the community that way," he said, taking out his pocket watch again.   
  
"What time is it?" she asked.   
  
"11:53. I set my watch against the station clock this morning, so it should be correct," he replied.   
  
Helena got up. "Yes, I remember Adelaide said you were particular about the time. I should return to my seat, as my stop should be soon."   
  
"Perhaps you would like to write to me?" Geoffrey asked, holding out two cards for her to take. "My current address, and my address in Miami."   
  
"Thank you," Helena said. She took them, shook hands again, and left for the safety of her own seat.   
  
She felt skittish and jumpy for the rest of the ride, convinced that Geoffrey was somehow watching her. She finally felt calmer when she was safely ensconced in Jim Jr's car, but even then she wondered. How could Geoffrey possibly be so young?    
  



	25. Chapter 13

SleepyBug: Hey, does your magic work if you sketch from photos?   
  
Sketchbooker: It takes more concentration than sketching from life, but it generally works, as long as the photo is decent. Having multiple photos from different angles seems to help.   
  
SleepyBug: Do you mind if I send you some photos? There's something I'm curious about.   
  
Sketchbooker: Sure, send them over. skissablokk@gmail.com Does this have anything to do with that stuff GRenegade was telling me about?    
  
SleepyBug: Cool email, what does it mean?    
  
SleepyBug: No, it's...actually, I guess it could be related, but it isn't as far as I know. The museum I work for recently received (well, recently unpacked, we received it a while ago) a music box that has a charm in it. I'm curious to see if your drawing gives us any hints about what it was designed to do.    
  
Sketchbooker: It's Icelandic, it means sketch block or drawing pad.    
  
Sketchbooker: I'm happy to take a look. There's no guarantee it will show anything useful, of course.    
  
SleepyBug: Sure, I know. And I'm reading a journal that was also in her stuff, so there may be something there.    
  
\---   
  
The next day, Victoria sat at her desk, reading Helena's journal. Katie Law had suggested a few names for the exhibit opening celebration, and they'd settled on "Stitches in the Sun". Maryam had signed off on it and gone to finish and send her letter to Jim Fairbody, Katie had promised to have some rough ideas for flyers by the end of the week, and Victoria had turned back to the journal.    
  
She didn't find anything relevant to either Helena's magic or Phoebe's embroidery for quite a while. She had nearly decided to stop for a while when she turned the page and found a clipping of an article in German with a black and white photo of a circular design in black, white, and a gray which might have been a color in real life.   
  
Victoria stopped and scanned the page. She didn't speak German, and the article appeared incomplete in any case. There was a handwritten note in the margin: "The only vampires are human ones - Geoffrey."   
  
The photo looked rather like the drawing Jeff had made of the carpet or tapestry in George's house. That wasn't conclusive, since his drawing had been very vague and Victoria had been reminded of it by a plate of spaghetti the night before. But still, the similarity was there. She snapped a picture on her phone, texted it to Jeff, and kept going.    
  
Two pages later she found an explanation:   
  
"I had not intended to record this, but I fear the information is too dangerous to be lost entirely. I believe that I can stop Geoffrey from accomplishing his current goals, but I lack the power and ability to stop him entirely, and his intent will always be dangerous.    
  
"Many magic-users know Geoffrey Hanussen as a kind and knowledgeable mentor, and still more know him as a gracious friend, who has introduced them to an entirely new society of magic-users. He is indeed a dedicated letter-writer, and has found answers to many questions concerning magic.

“This was indeed my first impression of him, when I found that I could build charms to direct the decisions of others.  Geoffrey introduced me to his friends, and encouraged me to expand and explore the limits of my ability.  I now regret having listened to him, for in doing so I manipulated and hurt others.

  
"If you who are reading this are a magic-user yourself, I think it is likely that you know Geoffrey. In that case I would ask you to examine your history with him carefully. Has he encouraged you to use your magic wisely, considering the needs of others? Are you closer to your family as a result of your correspondence with Geoffrey, or have you become slightly more distant? Have you done anything which you know to be wrong, but have been soothed into accepting with complacence?    
  
"I do not believe that Geoffrey Hanussen is a good man. I believe him to have many talents and much experience, but I believe that his goals are entirely selfish, and not at all for the benefit of those with whom he corresponds.    
  
"You are likely aware that Geoffrey places much confidence and pride in his system of sigils, which he believes make magic more effective and more efficient. They may accomplish just that; I do not know. If you have studied his system, I suggest you examine the pattern woven into the charm photographed in the article two pages prior to this entry. Geoffrey wrote that article, and I believe he owns that charm. According to his system of sigils, I believe he is able to use this charm to drain magic or life from captured victims, killing them to extend his own life.    
  
"This is a grievous charge, and I do not make it lightly. I have corresponded with many people who know Geoffrey, and I have seen every indication that he is much older than a natural lifespan would allow for. I have not been able to identify any of his victims, but I suspect he does not need to use the charm very often.    
  
"Grievous as this charge is, there may be worse to come. I have charted, to the best of my ability, the places where Geoffrey has lived during my lifetime. I believe he is making a sigil of sorts in that way. I do not know how he intends to activate it, but either he intends to work some unknown magic, or he is mad. And I know he is not mad.   
  
"I do not have the complete sigil, and can only guess at what it might accomplish. It may be as innocent as immortality, or as sinister as world domination. His interest in the magical gifts of others and the inclusion of a unity sigil makes me wonder if perhaps he hopes to access more gifts than the one he has naturally, but that is mere speculation.   
  
"Geoffrey said once (I will attach the clipping to a later page) that he was building a tower of destiny with magic, with space, and with time. The Tower is a tarot archetype, and I believe I can thwart his plan. I cannot defeat the man himself, and I can only trust that the Almighty will make all right in time."   
  
Victoria's mind whirled. Was it really the same charm as the one Jeff had seen? If it was...poor Zaire. He must be dead then, and his death was definitely not an accident. Jeff would feel terrible, too.    
  
Victoria re-read the entry, more carefully. The extended lifespan matched what they knew. So did the letters and the guiding influence. The system of sigils Helena mentioned might be a precursor to the image lexicon on Straight Line Magic; if they could find a copy of Geoffrey's research, Greg or Jeff could compare them to George's.    
  
Victoria was about to turn the page, looking for the clipping Helena had mentioned, when her phone chimed.    
  
TheJeff: That's it! That's it exactly! Where on earth did you find it? Do we know what it does?    
  
Then the charm matched too. That was perhaps the strongest evidence yet that George and Geoffrey were one and the same: most charms only worked properly for their intended target. On the other hand, the target definition could be flexible, so it might have been some category that included them both. Perhaps George was Geoffrey's son or grandson.    
  
Victoria tapped out a reply to Jeff:   
  
SleepyBug: I'll explain later. This could be really important.    
  
The next pages of the journal had a number of article clippings, all of them in German. Victoria assumed that one of them contained the quote Helena had referenced. There were also several densely covered pages which appeared to summarize Geoffrey's theories about sigils and their mathematical relationships and combinations, which looked complicated and unfamiliar. Geometry had never been Victoria's strong suit, but she thought she could pick through it if she had to. Still, she rather hoped someone else could do that part.    
  
\---   
  
"It's scary stuff," was Hugo's first comment that evening, when Victoria had told him what she'd found that day.    
  
Victoria snuggled closer, seeking the comfort of close contact. "It's terrifying," she admitted. "Before he was a manipulative person who was clearly up to no good, but still just a person, you know? Now...this is movie villain stuff. Larger than life."    
  
Hugo squeezed her gently. "I don't think it's that bad. He's older and more prepared than we thought, and it's still scary, but it sounds like he's still human. Helena probably stopped him from becoming a supervillain."   
  
"True. Though this life sucking charm thing is pretty terrible. On the other hand, it almost helps a little, you know? Before, we had George, who didn't seem very nice and we should probably do something about it but we don't know what because he might have good intentions and not be that bad. Now, we know the truth. His name is Geoffrey, and we absolutely need to stop him."   
  
"It does make your goals clearer," Hugo acknowledged.    
  
They were silent for a long minute. The computer hummed and a door closed upstairs, but otherwise the house was quiet.    
  
"You don't really have a way to stop him, though," Hugo said finally.    
  
"No, we really don't. Greg can keep track of him, so I guess that's something, and Jeff won't teleport anyone else for him. If we had a way to keep him from changing what he looks like, we might be able to wait until he tries to kill someone else and then get the police involved, but who knows how long that could take? Who knows whether he'd notice what we were doing? Helena said he didn't need to kill people often. And we don't have a way of stopping his gift anyway."   
  
"You're talking with the others tomorrow?"    
  
"Yeah, that's the plan. Sketchbooker should have the drawing of the music box by then, too."   
  
"So you may come up with something then, as a group. In the meantime, let's try to think about something else. You'll be better off if you can relax this evening, and it's always possible that your subconscious mind will come up with a brilliant new plan."   
  
Victoria took a deep breath. Hugo was right. He usually was. She leaned her head back and focused on the muscles of her back and shoulders, deliberately allowing them to relax.   
  
"Yeah, that sounds sensible," she replied. "What do you suggest?    
  



	26. May

Ms. Grace Fitzwilliam,   
  
I don't know if you remember me. My name is Maryam Abidi, I worked with your mother, Victoria Fitzwilliam, at the Browning Museum, years ago. I have worked in other places since, and I am partially retired now, but I was recently contacted by the Browning Museum.   
  
The Browning Museum recently had a bad fire, and they are closing the museum and transferring much of the collection to other institutions. Most of the main exhibition (what is left of it after the fire) is to go to a local university, and the basement collection is being divided among a variety of specialized museums and foundations. I was brought in to help with this effort.   
  
One item in the basement was a music box made by a local artist, which had been left to the museum by a lady named Helena Diagio. The box was badly scorched in the fire, but not entirely destroyed. Due to the scorching, none of the various museums are interested in displaying it.   
  
Your mother and I spent many months sorting through the donations from Helena Diagio, and your mother was particularly interested in this music box. In her honor, I thought it would be appropriate to send the music box to you. The initial bequest requested that we preserve the contents of the drawer intact, though I believe the cloth was accidentally left inside by your mother. In any case, do whatever you like with it.   
  
Cordially yours,   
  
Maryam Abidi, Ph.D.   
  
Grace unwrapped the box. She vaguely remembered her mother discussing the Helena Diagio bequest, though she didn't remember any mention of the music box.   
  
The scorching could probably be repaired, if she wanted, though the music player seemed to be broken. Still, it was a nicely made box, and it was kind of Maryam to send it to her.   
  
The letter mentioned a drawer. Grace tugged on the frame of the box a few times before finding the panel that would slide out.   
  
The inside had a layer of white felt, but under that...under that was a charm. It was composed of a variety of odd objects: a ring, a ribbon, a painted card, a bell, a chess piece, an acorn, and one of Grace's mother's embroidered sleep charms.   
  
Grace frowned in thought. What on earth was this? What did it do? Her mother had never mentioned that Helena Diagio had been a magic-user, but clearly she had convinced Maryam to keep the charm intact. Perhaps taking it apart would be dangerous.   
  
Well, now it had come to her. She couldn't very well throw it out. She couldn't really use it, either, since she had no idea what would happen if the charm were disturbed. Hopefully it had a defined target, and didn't just affect whoever was in simple proximity. She would pay attention to her moods and needs in the next few days, just to be sure.   
  
In the meantime, she would keep it secret and safe. She could stash it at the bottom of her bureau, under the winter sweaters and long underwear, and there it could stay.


	27. Chapter 14

Victoria checked her personal email before leaving for the museum the next morning, and found that Sketchbooker had already gotten back to her.   
  
The email had an attachment, and Victoria opened that first, assuming it was the drawing she'd asked for. She was surprised to see that the drawing made no sense at all. The music box was in the middle, but it was the only clear section. The rest of the drawing was fragmented like broken glass, and the pieces seemed chaotic and unrelated. She could see the outline of a person, but it jumped and jagged unexpectedly through the fragments. The music box seemed to sit on a table or stand of some sort, with patterned wallpaper behind it, but both wallpaper and table were interrupted by sweeping lines which didn't make sense. Inside the music box she could see some of the elements of the charm.    
  
Puzzled, Victoria went back to read the email.    
  
"Hi SleepyBug,   
  
"I'm attaching the sketch of your music box, and I have to say I'm entirely bewildered by the result. I have never gotten a drawing like this one.   
  
"I've been studying it, and going back over the drawing process (as well as I can remember it, which is difficult due to the meditative state magic requires - I'm sure you experience the same thing when embroidering your charms), and I believe I may have actually drawn three different events which all concern the music box. I have never had this happen before, so I don't know whether it simply means that the box has three events of equal importance, or something more significant.   
  
"I think the next step is for me to try to draw each event individually, extrapolating from the pieces I have. This will take a while, both because I have to figure out which pieces go with which event, and because non-magical drawings generally take longer. But I have imported the scan to photo editing software, and I will work on it when I can. To be honest, I'm very curious to see what the events are. Hopefully we'll be able to figure out if (and how!) they are related to each other.   
  
"I'll send you the new drawings as soon as I have them. Obviously there will be a certain amount of guesswork, but I think I'll be able to create something intelligible.   
  
"Sincerely, Sketchbooker"   
  
Victoria looked again at the drawing. Now that Sketchbooker had explained, she thought she could see the three events herself - there were outlines of three hairstyles, and one of the unidentified objects in the music box might be a piece of fabric. A handkerchief, maybe?    
  
Perhaps Helena had used the box for more than one charm? Of course, that would mean disassembling the first charm, which Greg said was generally considered unwise, but Helena might not have known that. Another possibility was that Helena had experimented with several different configurations for the charm, but that also seemed unlikely. The failed configurations would be less significant than the successful one, and wouldn't show up in the drawing, not to mention that Helena wouldn't have changed her hair between them.    
  
Victoria closed the email and left for work. She'd keep reading through the journal, if she got the chance.    
  
\---   
  
Naturally, Victoria did not get the chance. Katie Law was waiting for her with potential designs for invitations, flyers, banners, and programs for the Stitches in the Sun Celebration, all of which had to be thoroughly discussed. Once that was done, Victoria had to update the event budget and then call Joy to work out the details of the menu and logistical arrangements.    
  
At lunchtime, Victoria took the laptop that was set up with Tor and Tails and went to the cafe down the block to talk to the others.    
  
GRenegade: Well, I have some weird news. I've been keeping an eye on Snowleopard's location, but he's jumping around a lot. I know we've established that he moves residences frequently, but I'm seeing him in Maryland, Montana, and Washington DC, all in the same day. He seems to mostly move back and forth between those, though there was one trip to Mexico. And of course, it's possible that he visits more places and doesn't use a computer there.    
  
SleepyBug: Could he be using one of those computer anonymizer things? Sorry, I forget what they're called.    
  
GRenegade: VPN anonymizer. I suppose that's possible, but usually those route your signal through dozens of servers all over the world, not the same three places over and over again.    
  
TheJeff: I haven't been teleporting him.   
  
SouthernJaya: Maybe he has a charm that allows him to teleport?    
  
TheJeff: I only teleport myself and whoever is with me, I don't make charms.    
  
SouthernJaya: No, I know, but maybe he used to know someone else who did.   
  
TheJeff: Oh, like the notebook and the carpet or whatever it was. That's possible.    
  
SleepyBug: I actually have some news about that.    
  
TheJeff: Oh, that's right! She found the carpet!   
  
GRenegade: Really? Where?    
  
SleepyBug: Okay, so I work at a small local museum. About forty years ago, we got a bequest and a donation - a woman named Helena Diagio left us a few things, and her nephew couldn't be bothered to go through her house properly so he just had a company pack most of it up and donated it to us. Which was kind of obnoxious of him, since we don't really want to go through it all either. So my boss and I have been chipping away at it.    
  
One of the things in the actual bequest was a music box that turned out to have a charm in it. I don't know what it does, though I'm starting to have some guesses. We also found an old journal, and I've been reading that. The photo of the charm Jeff saw was in an article clipping in that journal.    
  
According to Helena, the charm is designed for sucking someone's life out so that the target can live longer. She wrote about a man called Geoffrey Hanussen who sounds a lot like Snowleopard. It sounds like he's a lot older than we thought.    
  
SouthernJaya: Are you sure?   
  
SleepyBug: I'm not sure of anything. Geoffrey Hanussen also wrote letters and built a lot of influence in the magic-user community, he also did a lot of research into sigils and their mathematical relationships, and he seems to have owned the same charm. I guess Snowleopard could just be someone he trained, but it doesn't look good.    
  
GRenegade: The lexicon on Straight Line Magic doesn't have anything about mathematical relationships, so maybe it isn't him.    
  
TheJeff: It had a couple of minor references when I first joined, but he removed them. His notes had a couple more. I don't know what that means, though - if he is Geoffrey, he might have changed his mind or shifted his focus (or decided to keep the details to himself), and if he isn't Geoffrey, he may have experimented with the idea for a while.    
  
GRenegade: are the sigils the same?    
  
SleepyBug: I don't know the lexicon well enough to check. I'm going to scan the pages so you can take a look.    
  
SouthernJaya: Scan everything, if you can, including the initial journal entry. I think it would help to have all of it available.    
  
SleepyBug: I'll do that. The article clippings are in German, though.    
  
Sketchbooker: Sorry I'm late. I haven't read enough to know what you're talking about, but I speak some German.   
  
GRenegade: We'll give you a minute to catch up, then.    
  
Victoria leaned back in her chair. Her coffee was cold, and her shoulders hurt from the tension of her body. A break from this discussion was really very welcome.    
  
Sketchbooker: Okay, I'm caught up. This is all quite worrying. I guess we think Geoffrey (if it is him) used the carpet charm on...I'm sorry, I've forgotten his name.    
  
TheJeff: Zaire. It would explain a lot.    
  
SouthernJaya: If we think Snowleopard can teleport with a charm, why did he ask Jeff to watch and kidnap Zaire?    
  
GRenegade: maybe it only goes to certain places?    
  
SleepyBug: Or he was sick that day (actually, that makes sense, if he runs low on life-force or whatever it is before he uses the charm), or he didn't feel like it. Or we're wrong about the teleporting and he's just got a really weird computer setup.    
  
GRenegade: I think I'd have noticed.    
  
SleepyBug: Probably you would have, but it's hard to be certain.    
  
GRenegade: I suppose.    
  
Sketchbooker: Since it turns out the music box might be relevant, do you want to know about the drawing I have of it?    
  
SleepyBug: Oh yes, we should definitely go over that. I was thinking last night and I realized one of the pieces of the charm in the box is the tarot card The Tower, which Helena mentioned Geoffrey was using.    
  
SouthernJaya: Wait, what? How does the tower fit in?    
  
SleepyBug: Oh right, I forgot that part. Geoffrey also moved around a lot, and Helena charted his moves and thought he was mapping out a sigil, to make some sort of very powerful charm. She referred to a statement he made about building a tower of destiny, and she said she thought she could stop that part of his plan, even if her gift wasn't strong enough to stop him altogether.    
  
GRenegade: Do we know what his gift was?    
  
SleepyBug: I don't think she said, at least not in what I've read so far. She seemed to think most magic-users would be familiar with him.    
  
TheJeff: Well, if he is Snowleopard, she's right.    
  
GRenegade: Sure, but moving from place to place isn't how Snowleopard uses his gift.    
  
TheJeff: I think there might be another way. There was one phone call when he was quite drunk - the one where he admitted he was a shapeshifter, actually - that he said something about new magic and the universal gift being in our blood and the fundamental nature of mathematics...I can't remember most of it, and I didn't think to take notes. But my impression was that he thought there was a second way to make charms, with enough research and some sort of ritual or something.    
  
SleepyBug: It's still a good point. I'll keep looking through the journal and see if she says.    
  
TheJeff: Honestly, I hope George is Geoffrey. If he isn't, our next step will have to be figuring out what happened to him and whether he's still killing people. It's not like we can let him roam around just because he hasn't affected us directly.    
  
SouthernJaya: Oh. Right. I hadn't really considered that.   
  
GRenegade: I'm not sure it works that way. I mean, there's a difference between dealing with someone who had hurt us and going hunting for some unrelated person.    
  
SouthernJaya: But as far as we know, there's no governmental oversight for magic-users. There's just too few of us. It behooves us to police ourselves as much as possible.    
  
SleepyBug: As far as we know, though. There might be more than we realize.    
  
Sketchbooker: But you'd think one of us would have heard something. I'm inclined to think there's no active oversight, at least in the Americas and Europe.    
  
TheJeff: Well, we'll discuss this more if it turns out that Geoffrey is still a problem. Clearly it's a tricky question. In the meantime, Sketchbooker, weren't you going to tell us about your drawing?    
  
Sketchbooker: Right. Okay. So the initial drawing was very strange - I sent a scan to SleepyBug, I'll send it to the rest of you. It looked broken, with different sections showing different scenes, all of them involving the music box.    
  
I've been working on drawing separate drawings for each of the scenes. The first one is probably Helena Diagio creating her charm. Her dress and furniture are all styles from before the 70s, when she died, and she seems to be in the act of positioning something in the box.   
  
The second scene might have to do with the tarot archetypes, actually. It's a juggler, and I can't really tell if he's juggling or spinning thread or what, but the box is involved somehow. I've never actually sketched a charm, so I'm wondering if this part is a portrayal of magic itself.   
  
There's a few hints of a third scene, or maybe more than one, but not enough to draw them separately. I'd just be guessing. I will say that one of them is a corner of something in the box - something that isn't there now. But I don't know what it is or what that means.   
  
SouthernJaya: Maybe the charm is incomplete?   
  
GRenegade: It probably wouldn't be a charm in that case, and it sounds like Victoria definitely sensed it was a charm. Maybe it's something Helena considered adding, or something she could have done, if there were multiple possible arrangements.   
  
SleepyBug: Helena did work with tarot archetypes some, though she also said that the tarot books weren't right. She referred to some novel she'd read that helped her figure it out, so maybe I'll see if I can find a copy.   
  
TheJeff: So does this help us with George at all? I still can't think of a way to get to him, even if he is Geoffrey as well.   
  
GRenegade: I think we're still in the information-gathering stage. We probably won't know anything else until we've had a chance to look at the pages from the journal and the finished drawings.   
  
SleepyBug: I'll scan everything I find. My morning was busy, but hopefully I'll get a chance this afternoon.


	28. 1967

Helena put down her German-English dictionary and bent over the photocopied pages again. Learning German at her age was slow going, but she was determined to read every page of _Magazin Hanussen_ , in the hope of finding some clue about what Geoffrey was doing.   
  
Geoffrey had said that his youthful appearance was the "privilege of magic," but Helena was well-aware that magic-users aged just like everyone else, which seemed to imply that he was using magic to stay young. Helena had no idea how that was possible.   
  
Her first step had been to go back through her own letters, as soon as she'd gotten home. Geoffrey had not mentioned any such magic, but she did find a story from Adelaide about meeting Geoffrey for the first time in 1881, and how distinguished his silver hair had looked. Of course, Helena knew Geoffrey could change his hair color, but surely silver hair would have looked out of place on a younger man? It seemed to imply that Geoffrey had looked older in 1881 than he did now.    
  
He might be able to change more than just his hair, of course, but even if that were the case, how was he alive and still active? If he'd been a well-traveled adult in 1881, he must he over one hundred now.    
  
She had intended to pursue the matter further, but had received news that her sister and brother-in-law had died in a car smashed, and all thoughts of Geoffrey were lost in the face of this tragedy.    
  
She had immediately taken the train back down to see her nephew and attend the funeral. Jim Jr, as it turned out, had actually been in the car when it happened, although he survived with only cuts and bruises. He seemed badly shaken by the experience, and he had ended his engagement. Helena hoped that his fiancee would wait until he recovered; she was a sweet girl and Helena thought they dealt well together.   
  
The funeral had passed, and Helena had returned home. The train ride home had reminded her about the mystery surrounding Geoffrey, and she decided to throw herself into unraveling it, in hopes of distracting herself from her grief.   
  
Her first step had been to write to Geoffrey. She knew she couldn't pass as Violetta, but Geoffrey collected magic-users, so it wasn't difficult. She made up a new name and a minor magic gift, rented a post office box, and sent him a letter.   
  
Geoffrey replied, with his familiar urbane tone. His approach was different now. He did not offer to introduce her to anyone, but he did seem very interested in knowing where she lived and who she lived with, and where she worked. Helena was puzzled by the difference, and rather alarmed by the interest.   
  
After several months, she was in a library and remembered _Magazin Hanussen_ from when she was younger. It was thirty years out of date and in German, but it still might offer a clue.    
  
It had taken her a long time to find a believable excuse for wanting to read it, and it took even longer for the librarian to find copies for her. As they came in, Helena photocopied the articles, hoping that the copying process would keep whatever charms Geoffrey might have added from working. Geoffrey had told her that the magic was created by the last active change to a charm, and Helena thought it was likely that Geoffrey (or rather whoever was working for him) had had to draw the last line of each printed sigil by hand to make it into a charm.    
  
Helena had worked her way through a German language correspondence course, and now she sat at her dining room table, photocopies and notebooks spread out before her, carefully translating the articles.    
  
She wasn't learning much. Sometimes she wasn't even sure how much was written by Geoffrey, and how much by someone else. The ranting articles about the importance of magic and the superiority of magic-users were almost certainly Geoffrey, though they did not tell Helena much about what Geoffrey was up to. The articles analyzing the psychosexul meanings of the sigils (Dr. Freud's theories had been very popular then, Helena remembered) were almost certainly not Geoffrey's work. The descriptions of seances, techniques for calming spirits, and reports of supernatural manifestations seemed unlikely to appeal to Geoffrey, but who knew? If he thought they would be a source of power, he might use them.   
  
The articles that were most interesting to her were ones the presented new sigils or new ways of combining them. Geoffrey was fascinated with the mathematics of geometry and their application to magic. Helena knew that his frequent assertion that his system would enhance any magic-user's gift wasn't true (his designs had certainly not worked for her, a lifetime ago when she had been foolish enough to make the experiment), but the sheer dedication he put into developing his system was impressive, and it clearly worked for him. From the tone of some of the observations, he'd found at least a few others who could also use his system.   
  
Of course, none of this told Helena what Geoffrey was up to, or how he'd lived so long, or why his presence made her skin creep. She kept looking.   
  
She was fairly fluent in German translation when she finally found it. An article written by Geoffrey described a number of charms which used his tri-fold method of combining sigils. The article had photos of three charms: one of Geoffrey's on a fogged-up mirror, one created by dragging a stick or rake through sand, and one which was woven into a tapestry or rug. The caption did not describe them in detail, but Helena stopped to use her notes to decipher the sigils used in each and figure out what they were designed to do.   
  
Geoffrey's was of course for changing his hair, with power and beauty sigils to make the change more effective. The one in the sand appeared to be a protective one for some sort of animal. The woven charm, however, used sigils for control, life-energy, and transference.   
  
Helena gasped. If she was reading this correctly, the charm could be used to drain someone's life and give their energy to the target. This was how Geoffrey was retaining his youth, by killing people.   
  
She had to stop him.    



	29. Chapter 15

Victoria got back to the museum. Katie Law had gotten back to her with quotes for the various menus they discussed, and someone had emailed the public inquiry address about where to park their motorcycle.   
  
Victoria dealt with both of those in short order and then opened Helena's journal. The museum had a scanner, but Victoria hoped to do her scanning while Maryam was out of the office, as Maryam would doubtless be curious about what she was doing.   
  
The pages of information about Geoffrey were followed by several pages of gardening notes, including a recipe for zucchini salad which, according to Helena's note, was better than it sounded but still not good enough to bother making again. Victoria wondered why she'd included it in that case, but perhaps she hadn't been able to think of anything better to fill the page. She was fairly sure that Helena had deliberately hidden the information about Geoffrey behind a pile of insignificant items.   
  
Eventually she got to more information about Geoffrey, this time a brief description of the one time Helena had met Geoffrey in person. She'd taken the train to see her sister and her family, and Geoffrey had been on the train also. She'd only recognized him because she'd seen the flash of light as he drew a charm in his fogged-up window to change the appearance of his hair. He was impossibly young, and she'd found the whole conversation very unsettling.   
  
Victoria marked the page thoughtfully. That would seem to confirm that Snowleopard was in fact Geoffrey. Snowleopard claimed to change the color of items by drawing on a fogged-up window, but Jeff said he was actually a shapeshifter. Geoffrey could change his hair, again by drawing on windows. It seemed likely that they were the same person, with a habit of downplaying his gift.    
  
Victoria texted the new information to Jaya and Greg, and peeked across the room to Maryam's desk. Maryam was standing up, still on the phone, and collecting her jacket and purse.    
  
After a minute, Maryam ended her phone call and looked over at Victoria. "I'm meeting with Aron Finch to go over the details of selling the books."   
  
Victoria smiled at her. "Well, have fun with that."    
  
Maryam smiled and left.    
  
Victoria got to work scanning the pages she'd marked in the journal. She scanned the photo of Phoebe and Jim Fairbody first, creating a high-resolution scan which could be enlarged for the exhibit. Then she moved on to the Geoffrey material.    
  
It was slow work, but not difficult. As she worked, Victoria wondered what Geoffrey might be trying to accomplish now. Assuming her charm had worked, Helena had thwarted a plan that had been several decades in the making. Would Geoffrey have started over again? Or would he change direction, and work towards some other goal? Helena wanted to steer him towards some harmless goal, but she had thought he was too stubborn for that.    
  
Finally the scans were finished and she sent them to Greg, who could upload them so that everyone could see them.    
  
\---   
  
Victoria was making dinner that night when her phone chimed.    
  
SouthernJaya: So I've been thinking.    
  
SleepyBug: Is that unusual?    
  
SouthernJaya: Very funny. I was thinking about this stuff with George or Geoffrey or whatever his name is.    
  
SleepyBug: You know, I never thought of that: Geoffrey might not be his real name either.    
  
SouthernJaya: Huh. True. Really, he's probably got dozens of names.    
  
SleepyBug: The three locations Greg tracked him to might represent three identities, of you think about it.    
  
SouthernJaya: That's true. It's even possible that none of those three is named George, if he reserves that for the website.    
  
SleepyBug: Possibly, but he gets letters too. Might be safer to have George actually live at that address.    
  
SouthernJaya: Well, that would still drive me crazy, trying to keep up with three lives at once.    
  
SleepyBug: Anyway, what were you thinking about?    
  
SouthernJaya: Oh right. So my son, Samin, is going through his terrible threes, and tonight at bedtime he threw a tantrum, as usual. You know how it is: he's so tired, and you know he'd feel better if he just went to sleep, but he's just so stubborn and sits there yelling "no!" instead.    
  
SleepyBug: I know how it is. Ethan would bite his own arm, for some reason.    
  
SouthernJaya: LOL. So anyway, something about the tantrum reminded me of this George/Geoffrey guy. I feel like maybe this immortality thing is the adult magic-user version of a tantrum? So if that's the case, what he needs is a sleep charm.    
  
SleepyBug: You think I could kill him with a sleep charm? That's....sort of horrifying, actually.   
  
SouthernJaya: Not kill him, just allow him to die a natural death. Just like I didn't have to sedate Samin.    
  
SleepyBug: Okay, I guess I see the difference, but I still don't think it would work that way. My sleep charms don't force people to sleep, just help them sleep when they want to. My husband wore one at work with no problem.   
  
SouthernJaya: They worked on fussy babies, didn't they?   
  
SleepyBug: Sure, but I figure the babies did want to sleep, they just don't believe that lying down and closing their eyes will be a good way to get there.   
  
SouthernJaya: Maybe. Still....I don't know, it's an interesting picture.   
  
SleepyBug: I mean, I'll keep it in mind. It seems a little crazy.    
  
SouthernJaya: I know. And thanks.    
  
SleepyBug: Sure.   
  
SleepyBug: Even if it did work, how would we get it on him? Have Jeff risk a little breaking and entering? Seems like a bad idea, if the man is a murderer.    
  
SouthernJaya: Actually I was thinking you could add it to the music box charm. My understanding of archetypes is from Jungian psychology, not tarot, but they're related. In Jungian terms, I think the charm is connected to the archetypes which inform his persona. Adding a sleep charm to the box should allow it to affect him.    
  
SleepyBug: That actually kind of makes sense. I still don't think it would force him to do anything, though.   
  
SouthernJaya: No, we don't have a way to bind him. It was just a thought I had.    
  
\---   
  
"You know, it might be worth trying," Hugo said thoughtfully later that night.    
  
"How is it worth trying? There's no way a sleep charm would make him decide to die." Victoria folded her arms.    
  
"Well, it's connected with his psyche instead of his body, so that might help."   
  
"I feel like that takes it from a sleep charm to a death charm, since sleep is the archetype for death (or possibly vice versa), but it doesn't make him choose to die. It only helps him die if he wants to," Victoria argued.   
  
"True. But it might help."   
  
Victoria thought for a minute. "As far as I can make out," she said slowly, "the guys say that Helena thought that the life-sucking charm wasn't the entire story as far as Geoffrey's immortality goes. It sounds like he had other defenses and plan in place, but they're not sure what they are. I think. It gets very technical and I don't understand it very well yet, so I could be missing something. At any rate, I really don't think a simple sleep charm can cut through all that."   
  
"Well, maybe it will cancel some of them. Every little bit helps, and if you weaken him for everybody else, you've definitely done your bit." Hugo paused, then added, "And it's important to note that it doesn't cost you anything - embroidery takes very little effort, and he doesn't know where we live or where the box is (if he even knows it exists), so there's no danger."   
  
Victoria let herself relax a bit. "There's the danger of Maryam finding it," she said, half-joking.   
  
"So you pass it off as a mistake," Hugo replied lightly, reaching one arm out to pull her in against him.   
  
Victoria sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Okay. I suppose it doesn't hurt to try."    



	30. 1973

Helena carefully placed the ruby ring that represented herself into the hidden compartment of the music box, in the center of the pattern as always. She re-aligned the pewter chess king and the tower card she had carefully painted, checked that the bell was still upright on the other side of the pattern, and closed the box. The charm was almost ready.   
  
The problem, of course, had been that she had no idea how to stop Geoffrey. She didn't understand the situation well enough to make a pattern that would affect him and no one else, and this wasn't a simple wrong choice which could be remedied with the flip of a token.   
  
She considered making a small charm for him and destroying it, but she had no idea what effect it would have. She'd done it once before, of course, but that one test wasn't enough to tell her what would happen this time. There was a limit to how far she could push people with her charms, and she thought that was probably true of destroying charms as well, if it had even been the charm that had caused it. The man she'd chosen had been unpleasant and quiet, and it really was possible that he'd been suicidal before she'd tampered with his life. Her own theory was that the charm had given him a sense of purpose, and with that purpose withdrawn he had lost reason to live. In any case, Geoffrey was certainly not suicidal, and had definitely made a firm decision to live, so she doubted he would be so strongly affected by her charm. In all likelihood, destroying a charm would simply alert him to the threat she presented.   
  
Helena went back to the journals, determined to learn everything she could. She was glad she did; the very next page contained a paper charm designed to protect the life-force of the user. She would need something to bind him, something to directly force him to stop, and she did not have the ability to do that.   
  
But she had time. Geoffrey couldn't be killing people all that often; someone would have noticed. Her calculations from the photo of the woven charm indicated that he would only need to kill every eighty years or so. She wondered if he was considering the false persona in her recent letters as a potential victim, and that was why he wanted to know her location, but it was just as possible that he had some other use in mind.    
  
Helena considered the letters. This persona was unlikely to extract any useful information, if Geoffrey regarded her as prey, but that didn't mean letters were a dead end.   
  
Helena chose a town about an hour away by bus, and rented another post office box. It would be a long and wearing trip to take on a regular basis, but it was necessary.   
  
She invented yet another persona, this one a man named Edward Jones. She made him a successful attorney, and gave him a powerful gift. Geoffrey had been quite fond of her when he knew her gift was powerful, and she wanted Geoffrey to be fond of this persona.   
  
Geoffrey warmed immediately to Edward Jones. Helena replied, angling for introductions to others. She needed to understand Geoffrey's network in order to build an effective charm, and she could get more information from others who knew him.   
  
Within a year, Helena had more correspondence than she knew what to do with. There were magic-users who could mentor Edward Jones and discuss theory with him, magic-users who worked in law or government and could discuss the legal aspects of magic with him, and young female magic-users who might be excellent marriage prospects. The postmarks came from all over the world: New York, Texas, Nevada, Canada, Equador, Greece, Japan.   
  
Helena made the trek to her post office box once a week, to collect her letters and post replies. Her hands were not as young as they once were, and she found it slow going, but scraps of information were coming in, and she persisted.   
  
Geoffrey maintained a wide network of influences, though he seemed uninterested in politics or public power. He rarely traveled to meet people, but he moved around a lot and was willing to meet anyone who happened to live nearby. He insisted that magic-users were stronger and wiser than normal humans, often in ranting speeches that reminded Helena of speeches she'd heard coming out of Nazi Germany. Geoffrey was intensely interested in how other people's magic worked, though Helena noted that he did not often ask for others to make charms for him. When he did, it seemed to have a very specific purpose, but she could not always make out what that purpose was.   
  
Helena found herself puzzled. Geoffrey had killed who knew how many people in order to live this long. He seemed power-hungry, but didn't seem to exert much power over the people he influenced.   
  
One evening, on a whim, Helena started charting the places Geoffrey had lived. She pulled out the letters from when she was young and started with the postmarks on those, and then she started flipping through the letters since, looking for references to meeting Geoffrey in this city or that year. Eventually her map was full of marks, and the marks seemed to make a pattern.   
  
The next morning, Helena went out and bought the biggest map she could find. She spread it out on her table, and began marking Geoffrey's locations with pins, stretching yarn between them when she knew she had two consecutive locations. Once she was finished, she stood on a chair to look at it properly.   
  
Geoffrey was building a charm. The pattern wasn't finished, but the giant power sigil was unmistakable. She thought she also saw sigils for adaptation, and perhaps unity. It was hard to be certain.   
  
Carefully steadying herself against the table and the wall, Helena got down from the chair and began to pace around the table. Could Geoffrey even make a charm this way? Normally a magic-user only had one medium to use to make patterns. Perhaps Geoffrey was dragging someone else along with him. Perhaps he'd found an exception to the rule; he'd certainly experimented enough. The sigil couldn't possibly be a coincidence.    
  
A sentence from an article in _Hanussen Magazin_ came back to her. "Ich baue einen Turm des Schicksals mit Magie, mit Raum, und mit Zeitgeist," which she'd translated, "I am building a Tower of Destiny with Magic, with Space, and with Time."   
  
The Tower was a tarot card, she remembered. Normally the Tower was a scene of disaster, with people fleeing a tower which was crumbling due to lightning or fire or earthquake or all three, but reversed the card represented a strong tower, a place of learning and human ambition. And archetypes were safer to work magic with than people. Helena didn't think she could stop Geoffrey, but she knew she could topple his tower.    
  



	31. Chapter 16

The next few days felt a little slow after the revelations of the journal. Life continued almost as if everything was normal.   
  
That didn't mean that they didn't continue to examine the information they had. Sketchbooker, who knew some German, read the articles and translated the parts she thought were important. The articles turned out to be from _Hanussen Magazin_ , a journal about the occult published by Erik Jan Hanussen in the 1930s. Erik Jan Hanussen was a mentalist best known for his influence on Adolf Hitler, according to Victoria's research. Greg thought Erik Hanussen had been Geoffrey Hanussen under a different name, but they had no way of knowing. Erik Hanussen had disappeared, and two weeks later a corpse found by the side of the road had been identified as him, but they all thought Geoffrey could probably have managed that. As Greg pointed out, someone who kills people on a regular basis has a ready supply of corpses for faking death. Jeff thought Geoffrey wouldn't have willingly given up a position of strong influence like that, so he thought Erik Hanussen probably had been a real person and had in fact been assassinated by SA men.    
  
In between arguing about the identity of Erik Jan Hanussen, Jeff and Greg also argued over whether the sigil research from the journal could have developed into the lexicon on the website. Since Geoffrey had had an additional eighty or so years to experiment and refine his ideas, and on top of that they couldn't rule out the possibility that he might deliberately withhold information, they were unable to reach any very firm conclusions. But after much discussion, they decided it was quite possible that the two were indeed related.    
  
Victoria had decided to go ahead and try Jaya's idea, and had chosen a simple snail design for the charm. It wasn't working. She'd tried making the charm three times so far, and the flash of light stubbornly failed to occur.    
  
"It's a focus problem again, isn't it?" Hugo asked when she explained it to him. "You had the same issue with the one for Jeff."   
  
"I suppose it is. I think about him and I think about poor Zaire and about how Jeff is having trouble sleeping - even after I sent him a charm - because he feels so guilty. I just don't think there is a good person under someone who... who eats people like that, you know? He's probably a psychopath."   
  
"He might be, actually. I seem to remember that some psychopaths are highly skilled at manipulating people."   
  
"Exactly my point." Victoria pulled her feet onto the couch and curled up with her arms around her knees.   
  
"Okay, so we need a way to think about him that isn't ‘psychopath,’" said Hugo.    
  
"I already tried focusing on all the letter-writing and mentoring and research and stuff," Victoria objected.    
  
"No, that won't work, because it's part of his destructive behavior. That stuff is just insidious evil instead of the outright kind."    
  
"Yes! That's it exactly. I tried focusing on those because he's not actually killing people, but he's still using the letters and mentorship to hurt people, and I bet his goals for research are nothing I want to know about."    
  
"Right. What about Jaya's comparison to a stubborn toddler? Can you use that?"    
  
Victoria tilted her head. "Maybe? I see your point, but...he's not a toddler. Tantrums aren't cute on adults."    
  
"True, but the toddler archetype is there, right? He's *spiritually* a toddler, so to speak."   
  
Victoria was quiet for a minute, turning the idea over in her mind. "That might actually make sense. I'm sewing for the toddler inside him, or something like that. Also he must have been a toddler at some point, and somebody loved him then. Probably still would love him - mothers don't stop loving their kids just because they do terrible things."   
  
"Sure. Though I don't think you can focus on his younger self."    
  
"No, that wouldn't work. The spiritual toddler will, though. That's part of being human, really - we all feel like having tantrums sometimes."    
  
"Most of us don't."    
  
"No, most of us don't allow the toddler to be in charge. That's what makes everything twisted and wrong. Or part of it, anyway."    
  
"The other part being that he's a psychopath," agreed Hugo.    
  
"Yeah." Victoria uncurled, and moved over to snuggle against Hugo. "Thanks for talking it through with me. How was your day?"    
  
\---   
  
The next evening, Victoria started a new charm for Geoffrey. The snail suddenly felt wrong (or perhaps was simply bored of stitching the same thing over and over again) so she flipped through her pattern file. Eventually she came across a complex star or snowflake design that Grace had doodled in her notebook around Christmas time. Victoria had asked if she could use it for embroidery, and Grace had made her a larger, neater copy.   
  
Hugo came in, put a mug of tea on the table next to Victoria, and sat down next to her with his tea and his magazine while she was tracing the design onto the fabric. Victoria shifted so that she could see him, but kept working.   
  
"Maryam asked today why I haven't been embroidering at work," she commented after a while.   
  
"What did you tell her?"   
  
"That I've been busy, and that most of my projects lately have been small ones that I didn't want to bother packing up every day. She seemed to accept that."   
  
"That's good. Do you think you can embroider without making it into a charm? It seems a pity for you to lose the hobby just because of magic." Hugo took a sip of his tea.

“Oh, absolutely.  There’s a woman on the forum - she goes by Whirligig, but I don’t know her real name - who makes magic by participating in circle dances.  A number of countries have dances that are done in a circle - some English country dances do that, and apparently it’s very common in Israel, and there’s a form of salsa dance called rueda that’s in a circle, and so on - and when she participates, her dancing (well, she says it’s everyone’s dancing, but she’s the one with magic) makes a healing charm that provides really amazing emotional and psychological healing to all the dancers and some people in the audience.”

“Wow.  That’s really amazing.”

“It is, but it’s a real problem for her because the flash of light at the end is kind of conspicuous, and she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself.  So she loves to dance, and she loves to help people, but she can’t do it nearly as often as she’d like.”

“So what does she do?”

“Well, she figured out that she can experiment a little bit - the healing doesn’t kick in immediately, and a stray flash of light isn’t that big a deal.  People don’t know what it was, but they don’t know it was magic, and after a while they forget about it.”

“Sure.  We did the same thing.”

“She says that she looks for safe places to dance.  The light isn’t noticable outdoors on a sunny day, for example, or if she’s at a wedding or something, everyone assumes it was the photographer.  She says she figures a club with lots of strobe effects would also work, but it’s not common to find that sort of thing at places people do circle dances.”

“And the rest of the time she doesn’t dance?”

“Not as much as she’d like.  She can stop the magic from forming if she focuses on something other than the dance the whole time, but that’s not as enjoyable.  And she and her husband are learning ballroom and swing and other partner dances, because those don’t trigger magic to form.”

“At least she has something.  That sounds really rough.”

“It does.  But I don’t think I’ll be in the same boat. One of the benefits of practicing meditation is that it helps me practice _not_ meditating, so I can embroider without making magic. I think it will be easier on pieces that aren't intended to be worn."    
  
"So you think you'll start embroidering for pleasure again?"    
  
"I think I just need to find the right piece, really. Something largish, maybe, so it takes a while. I've been thinking so much lately; it will be a relief to not have to make big decisions all the time."    
  
"You should do a rhinoceros," Hugo said firmly.    
  
"Why should I do a rhinoceros?" Victoria asked, amused.    
  
Hugo looked at her as if the answer were obvious. "Because rhinoceroses are awesome."    
  
Victoria laughed. "I'll keep it in mind. Quiet now, I need to work on this."    
  
Hugo leaned over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "Love you."    
  
"Love you too."    
  
\---   
  
It wasn't until the next night that Victoria finished the stitching, and was gratified by the flash of light that signaled the charm had activated.    
  
"You did it!" Hugo cheered.   
  
"I did it," Victoria said. Now that she'd made it, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to try adding it to the music box or not. It seemed so pointless.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
"It just seems pointless. I did a lot of work - a lot of emotional work, even if the stitching wasn't bad - to make this, when we know perfectly well that it won't work. This won't make him do anything."   
  
"Helena put the charm together, even though she knew it would only stop one part of his plan. And she probably didn't know that, not for sure."   
  
"True. She said she trusted the Almighty would fix it in time."    
  
"So maybe you're an agent of the Almighty," Hugo replied, grinning at her.    
  
Victoria laughed. "Right. Because that's how that works."    
  
"But you'll try it?" he asked.    
  
"I suppose," she conceded.    
  
Hugo slung his arm around her shoulders. "You think it'll work?" he said, adopting the appropriate silly accent.    
  
Victoria grinned and relaxed against him. "It would take a miracle."    



	32. June

The music box in the bottom of Grace's bureau was bugging her.   
  
It wasn't any sort of magical effect, as far as Grace could tell, but there was a sort of itchy feeling in her mind, rather like when someone has forgotten to lock the door or turn the stove off before they left the house. She'd decided to ignore it, but she kept wondering what the charm did, why her mother had left a sleep charm in it, why the whole thing felt unfinished.   
  
She'd written back to Maryam, a polite letter to thank her for her thoughtfulness, though secretly Grace rather wished Maryam hadn't been quite so thoughtful. Life had been more peaceful before the music box arrived. But manners were manners, and she had met Maryam occasionally as a teenager, so Grace sent the note.   
  
Finally, evening after work, Grace pulled the music box out from under the sweaters. Perhaps she could figure out what the charm was for, and that would help her feel better. Our attention is always attracted by mysteries, so Grace hoped that if she solved the mystery, she could go back to forgetting about the music box.   
  
Grace pulled out the sleep charm and set it aside. The pieces of the older charm were connected by matchsticks. Grace was initially surprised that they had stayed in place, but she looked closer and saw that candle wax had been deliberately dripped on each one to keep them from shifting.   
  
Grace sketched out the design made by the matchsticks and flipped through the pages of commonly used designs on the Charm Renegade website. No luck.   
  
Next Grace tried looking up the symbolism of the various items, but she quickly gave up. Some of them were obvious enough - the painted tarot card was The Tower, which represents destruction and change, and the chess king almost certainly represented some sort of ruler or authority. But the other items had dozens of meanings, and she had no way of knowing which one was intended. The bell, for example, might be for freedom or the American people, or it might represent a church bell, in which case it could order the day, call people to worship, or scare off evil spirits. And so on.   
  
Grace considered posting a photo on the Charm Renegade forum, in hopes that someone might recognize it, but she just didn't want to. The intrusive feeling of their initial invitation lingered in her mind. She knew she was probably being irrational, but she still didn't want to get involved. She would keep the option in mind, as a last resort.   
  
With a sigh, Grace picked up the sleeping charm her mother had left, intending to replace it. The design was a star or snowflake, and it felt vaguely familiar, and she sat for a moment, tracing the lines.   
  
She had drawn this, Grace suddenly realized. It had been the start of a much larger pattern when she was still in school, and her mother had seen it and asked for a copy. Grace had made a clean version for her mother to use, and later had finished the pattern and thought no more about it.   
  
Her mind went back to the description of her mother's gift from the website: on one occasion, her charm had compelled sleep, for no known reason. Could this be that charm? Could her design have altered its properties somehow?   
  
But no, that didn't make sense. Grace hadn't had magic then, and it wasn't even the full design, and her mother's magic had been intent-based. And even if not for those things, it still wouldn't work. The website was very clear that everyone had their own gift and their own designs. Even using one of Grace's unformed energy bursts to strengthen the charm would have required Grace to create her own charm, separately. Her design wouldn't do anything.   
  
Still, it was odd. Grace shook herself and replaced the charm in the music box. She would put it aside and not think any more about it. There was a Tom Hanks movie marathon on the stream, and she was going to make some spaghetti, pour herself a glass of wine, and enjoy it.   
  



	33. Chapter 17

Victoria went to work the next morning and focused on planning the logistics for the embroidery and quilting workshops. She priced out supplies, calculated seating, considered days and time slots, and sent Katie Law an email about designing posters.   
  
She did not take the sleep charm downstairs to the music box, and she tried to avoid thinking about it.  Hugo had handed her the charm on her way out the door, with a cheerful "Have fun storming the castle!" but she had buried it at the bottom of her purse and ignored it. The whole situation felt weird and unreal and uncomfortable.   
  
"That's odd," Maryam commented, shortly before lunch time.   
  
"What is?" Victoria asked.   
  
"I have an email from Jim Fairbody, asking when I'll be available today."   
  
"Doesn't he live in another state?"   
  
"I suppose he was passing through and wanted to see his aunt's bequest on display." Maryam began typing a reply.   
  
"His aunt's bequest isn't on display yet," Victoria objected.   
  
"True, but I don't mind showing him the collection we have planned. People like feeling that they've made a contribution to that sort of thing."   
  
"I scanned that photo of him and his mother the other day. I could see if I can get a copy printed in time," Victoria offered.   
  
"Oh, that would be lovely!"   
  
Victoria picked up the phone to call Katie about printing a photo quickly. With that arranged, she answered three more emails and then left for lunch.   
  
\---   
  
Victoria had returned, given the photo to Maryam, and just seated herself at her desk when a visitor arrived. He looked about eighty to Victoria, with white hair and slightly stooped bearing. He was immaculately dressed in a pinstripe suit with a dark tie, and he carried a polished cane.    
  
"Mr. Fairbody," Maryam said, coming forward to greet him. "I'm Maryam Abidi, the director here at Browning Museum, and this is Victoria Fitzwilliam. It's such a pleasure to meet you."    
  
"Indeed," he replied, shaking hands with Maryam. He looked briefly at his watch.    
  
"Are you in a hurry? Is there something in particular that you wanted to see?" Maryam asked. 

“Your mentioned you have been unpacking my aunt’s collection?”

“We have. Your aunt's collection is still in storage, but we hope to incorporate several of the pieces into our exhibit. I'd be happy to show you around.” 

“Thank you.” Mr. Fairbody’s hand twitched at his side. 

“But first,” Maryam added, turning to pick up the envelope on her desk, “I'd like to give you this. We found the original in your aunt’s journal, and had it scanned and enlarged.” 

Mr. Fairbody tucked his watch back in his pocket again and opened the envelope. He looked curiously at the photo inside. 

“I don't believe I've seen this photo before,” he concluded. 

“It was labeled ‘Phoebe and Jim’ in Miss Diagio’s journal,” Victoria explained.

Mr. Fairbody glanced up at her. “You've been reading her journals?” he asked. 

“I have. They're quite fascinating,” Victoria replied. 

Mr. Fairbody stared at her intently. “What does she speak about?” he asked. 

Victoria wished she could take a step back. Mr. Fairbody wasn't physically any closer than he had been, but she felt crowded anyway. “Nothing of consequence, really. Mostly recipes and local news. But it's an interesting glimpse into life during that period,” she said, as calmly as possible. 

Mr. Fairbody relaxed, and Victoria took a breath. “Of course, you are students of history,” he said. Victoria thought she heard a sneer in his voice, but she might have been imagining it. 

“In any case, I hope you enjoy the photo of your mother. She died when you were relatively young, I believe,” Maryam put in. 

“Indeed she did. It was quite a large crash,” Mr. Fairbody replied. 

“Yes. And then you lost your aunt, too. I'm very sorry.” 

“Oh, that was some time later. She lived quite a long life, really. I did want to ask about one piece - she had a music box, which I believe was rather a fine piece from this area. Where do you plan to display that?” 

“Well, we haven't quite chosen the exact spot, but we do plan to put it in the main exhibit hall. Would you like to come see it?” Maryam asked, gesturing behind him, towards the main entrance to the museum. 

“Indeed I would. Shall we?” 

Mr. Fairbody turned so that Maryam could precede him out the door, and then looked up at Victoria, silently asking if she would be coming too. Victoria had intended to stay at her desk, but she complied with the silent invitation and accompanied them to the exhibition hall.    


“This is a map of the original settlement of the area, and below it you can see a modern map, for comparison,” Maryam began, moving around the room. “Over here you can see several landscapes painted by local artists over the last few decades, and I thought the music box might be placed on a table centered under them. The other logical place for it would be with the woodwork examples, but those are all rather utilitarian in design and the music box is a work of art.”

“I see. And the music box itself? What state is it in?” 

“The music mechanism is broken, but the box itself is in lovely condition. There are a few items in a concealed drawer…” 

Mr. Fairbody interrupted, “Yes, I remember, her trinket collection. I hope they are undisturbed? I remember it was specified quite clearly that they were to remain undisturbed.” 

Maryam was somewhat taken aback by his sudden interest. “Um, yes, I believe they are entirely undisturbed. We will display the box with the drawer closed, in any case, so there is no need to clean them out.”

“Excellent. I'm very glad to hear it.” Mr. Fairbody looked at his watch again. 

He must be a magic-user, Victoria realized. The only reason anyone would care about the charm was if they knew it was a charm. Unless Helena had told him? But if she had told him that much, surely he would have known Victoria was lying about the contents of the journal.

Mr. Fairbody and Maryam were examining a collection of items from the old school-house. Victoria watched them, wondering if he was anyone she knew from either of the online magic-user forums. Hadn't someone mentioned a pinstripe suit once? 

Mr. Fairbody glanced at his watch again, and suddenly it clicked. A magic-user obsessed with time. This wasn't Mr. Fairbody at all. This was Geoffrey. 

Maryam laughed at something he said. Victoria moved towards them. 

“...of course, that was before I was a financial advisor,” he was saying. 

“Oh, do you work in finance?” Victoria asked. Maybe she could learn something, if she found the right questions to ask. 

“Well, I'm partially retired now, but yes. I was an investment broker for a time, but I love to share my knowledge with others who can use it. It's very satisfying to me.”

“How did you get started in that? I expect you worked at a bank first?” 

“Not directly, though I have worked as a teller also. I inherited a sum of money from a cousin of mine, and I invested quite a bit. She was remarkably good at predicting which stocks would succeed. She left some notes which I found very useful, but her system never worked as well for me as it did for her.”

Another magic-user, perhaps? Someone with a clearer-than-usual knowing gift, maybe, or a charm that could influence companies. How had he adapted her charm to work for himself?

“It is always tricky, adapting someone else's system or equipment. Even things which are made for general use tend to need some tweaking before they really fit, and if something is made specifically for a certain person, it's much harder,” she commented. 

“It is indeed, and we often have to decide whether the results will be worth the effort. But I have found ways. I dream sometimes of a perfect adaptation system, something that would allow me to use anything I came across.”

Anything he came across? No wonder he was constantly asking questions about other people's gifts. Victoria tried to figure out what to say next, but she couldn't find anything innocuous enough. 

Maryam unknowingly saved her. “Like cell phone chargers! I dearly wish they would come up with one charger and one cable that would work for all phones - I've got heaps of old ones at home, and of course I can never reuse them.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Fairbody replied. 

The tour had apparently been completed, since Maryam led them back towards the office. “I hope you enjoyed what you saw today, Mr. Fairbody?” 

“I did indeed! It was most interesting. May I perhaps provide the table or shelf for the display, when you make your final determination? I would so much like to contribute to the exhibit.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes. Why would he want to add anything? He knew it wasn't safe to destroy Helena's charm. 

“You have already, Mr. Fairbody. You donated so much of your aunt’s estate, and it has quite a few items from your mother as well,” Maryam pointed out. 

“But those are my aunt's and my mother's. I would like to have something I contributed personally as well.” 

A charmed table, Victoria realized. Something to negate the first charm, maybe. 

She didn't realize she'd said it out loud until Mr. Fairbody glared at her.  “I beg your pardon?” he demanded. 

Victoria swallowed. “I - I just said it was charming of you. To want to contribute, I mean.” 

At that moment, the phone rang, and Maryam turned to answer it. Mr. Fairbody advanced on Victoria, quietly snarling, “It was you, wasn't it? You're the foolish busybody who dug up that charm and sent me a mocking letter about how you were going to put it in display!”

Victoria felt frozen in place.  She opened her mouth, but no words came out.  She couldn’t think of anything to say.

Fairbody whirled around and began to pace between the desks, examining what was on each one. "Helena Diagio flouted my advice," he told her, poking at a pile of papers with his cane. "And then the vixen went and created a charm to destroy my life's work, as if she had the right to interfere."    
  
“Your life’s work?” Victoria echoed.

  
"I was building a tower, a true manifold destiny which would have been the greatest achievement of our age. And that woman dared step between me and greatness!" he ranted. He overturned a box of books onto the floor and began to look through them. 

Victoria saw that Maryam was hanging up the phone.  She tried to signal Maryam to get out or call the police or something, but Maryam did not see her.

Fairbody was continuing his rant, getting louder with each sentence. "I knew something was wrong, but had no idea what it was until she died, and then I could have strangled her. I found the charm in her house. She had willed it to the museum, and her lawyer knew it; I didn't dare destroy it, knowing what I do about her gift. She had a powerful gift, and it was destined to be my most useful tool, but the fool turned it against me. I killed her family so I could keep a closer eye on her, but she defied me even then! I found her charm, and I buried it in boxes and boxes of junk; it should never have seen the light of day again!" Jim whirled, and apparently remembered that Maryam was still there.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Fairbody," Maryam began, picking up her phone again. "I'm not sure what you want, but..."   
  
"You know exactly what I'm here for!" Fairbody shouted.   
  
_This man is dangerous_ , Victoria realized. It was easy to forget, given his age and the cane, but he was dangerous. He'd had the woven life-sucking charm, and the absinthe charm, and the drugs he'd given to Jeff. Her breath caught. Who knows what else he had? Who knows what he could use at any moment. 

“I can see that you’re upset,” Maryam soothed, “and I’m sure that we can come to an agreement.  Why don’t we sit down? Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Geoffrey ignored her. He was swinging his cane in odd loops and circles, muttering under his breath.

Victoria’s breath caught.  Geoffrey was activating a charm, she was sure of it.  Maryam had already dialed 911, but the police wouldn’t get here in time, and even if they did, they would have no defense against whatever magic was embedded in that cane.   
  
There was only one thing Victoria could do that could possibly help. She ran to her desk, grabbed her purse, and ran to the door to the basement. She opened it quietly enough, but it slipped and slammed behind her.    
  
"Where is she? Where does that go?" she heard Geoffrey shout at Maryam. Victoria locked the door and started down the stairs, hearing him pounding on the door behind her. Better the door than Maryam.    
  
The stairway was cold and narrow, and Victoria’s feet felt clumsy on the narrow steps. She hurried down as quickly as possible.    
  
She almost stumbled when she reached the bottom, but caught herself and raced past the shelves. She could still hear Geoffrey upstairs, but the sounds had blurred into a dull thundering and she could no longer make out what he was saying.    
  
The music box was still on the shelf. Victoria dug in her purse and found the sleep charm. The box seemed incongruously quiet, with Geoffrey still raging overhead.    
  
Feeling rather absurd, Victoria draped the cloth over the chess king. To her surprise, light flashed, as if she was completing a whole new charm. For a moment she had the impression of paper crumpling under her fingers, but then it vanished.    
  
Victoria took a deep breath and started back towards the stairs. The thundering had stopped, and she was anxious now. What if he'd killed Maryam? Maybe she should have stayed.    
  
The stairs were even colder and more uncomfortable than they had been on the way down. As she got close to the door, Victoria could hear a soft, repetitive noise or chant of some sort, but she couldn't make out the words. Had he activated a new charm?    
  
She got to the top and unlocked the door, but it still wouldn't open when she pushed. The chant stopped.    
  
"Victoria?" Maryam asked.    
  
"Yeah. Are you okay?"    
  
"It's...I'm fine. Hang on," Maryam replied. There was a shuffling noise and the door opened.    
  
Victoria stepped through to find that Geoffrey was on the floor, and Maryam was in the process of tugging him away from the door. As soon as Victoria got through, Maryam went back to counting under her breath as she performed CPR on Geoffrey. Geoffrey was ominously still, and his face was turning purple.    
  
"What happened?" Victoria asked.    
  
"He just - collapsed. Responder said - maybe aneurysm. Ambulance coming," Maryam replied, continuing her efforts.    
  
Victoria nodded, stunned. "Right. I'll... Okay. I'll go wait for the ambulance, let them in and things."   
  
The wait in the lobby seemed interminable. Finally a police cruiser arrived, and they took over. Victoria found herself sitting on the bench near the coat closet, watching the emergency responders efficiently clear the way and take Geoffrey out to the ambulance.    
  
"Ma'am? Are you alright?" It was one of the police officers.    
  
"Oh. Oh, yes, I'm fine. It was just all...unexpected," Victoria finished lamely.    
  
"Of course. Do you feel able to answer a few questions? We need to know what happened."    
  
Victoria shook herself. "Of course. Is Maryam okay?"    
  
"Your coworker? She's fine. My partner is talking to her now." The officer pulled out a notebook. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.    
  
Victoria summarized what had happened. She couldn't say that she had gone downstairs to create a charm, so she said she'd gone to find the music box, letting the officer assume she had intended to retrieve it for Geoffrey to see.    
  
Finally, the police were satisfied. They took a few photographs of the office, but explained that Geoffrey had been declared dead on arrival at the hospital, so it was unlikely that there would be any further official action. They packed up and left.    
  
Victoria and Maryam stared at each other.    
  
"I think we'll call it a day," Maryam finally decided. "I imagine we could each use a nap and a bar of chocolate."    
  
"Yeah. Maybe a glass of wine," Victoria agreed. They packed up their things in silence, smiled awkwardly at each other, and left for home.    
  
Victoria's hands were shaking. She called her husband as soon as she got into her car. "Hugo? I...I need you. Can you come home?"    



	34. 1973 again

Helena rearranged the items in the music box, and added a perfectly round acorn and a scrap of pink ribbon which Phoebe had embroidered with pansies, years before. The charm wasn't quite ready to be finished, but it was close.    
  
It had taken years for her to gain enough understanding to put this charm together. Geoffrey had so many connections to so many people, and she felt she needed to understand them all if she was going to stop him without harming anyone else. Her understanding was never going to be perfect, but she had learned a great deal. And her hands weren't as steady as they once were. The doctor had suggested that she have a nurse come several times a week to assist her, and she'd arranged for the first visit tomorrow. It was now or never.    
  
She'd made arrangements for the charm to be kept safe. She'd visited estate sales and auction houses until she found the perfect box: a music box with a hidden drawer, handmade by a famous artist during his brief stay at a town not far from her. She would leave the box to the museum in that town, and they would certainly guard it well. She had a few other treasures - her father's first editions, the Chinese vases a college friend had sent her - and she could leave those to the museum too, to thank them for housing her magic.    
  
The rest she would leave to Jim. Her nephew had never married, but he was a fine man. He visited her several times a year, and was always very affectionate towards her. She did sometimes see him glancing at the clock during his visits, impatient to leave, but he never showed any impatience in his dealings with her.    
  
Sometimes Helena thought Jim might suspect that she did magic, or something of the sort. He occasionally dropped hints or asked what she thought of articles in the newspaper which concerned the occult. Helena had never told him the truth. Geoffrey was dangerous, and there might be other dangers which she had not discovered, and she did not wish for Jim to be drawn into that world.    
  
Still, she felt she ought to leave some record. She'd selected a journal, and mostly filled it with whatever came to mind or to hand: recipes, songs, fanciful paintings from Phoebe's old letters, accounts of her daily tasks. She mixed in entries about magic, including her own experiences and her concerns about Geoffrey. If Jim were really curious, he would find them, and know what she knew. And if he did not read it, then he would be safe. All would be well.    
  
Thoughtfully, Helena shifted the ribbon and the painted card to add a thimble full of soil from the garden. There. The pattern felt right now.   
  
She laid in the matchsticks, building the connections as she saw them. She had painted both sides of the tower card: right now it showed a strong tower, stretching up to Heaven, but when she turned it over it would show the tower falling and the rocks in disarray.   
  
Helena's charm would interrupt the charm that Geoffrey was building. She had wanted to knock over the chess king, but her instincts told her that she would harm too many people that way. She could not stop Geoffrey, but this would slow him down.    
  
Helena checked that everything was in place, and then she reached out and flipped the tower card over. The light flashed, and for a moment she thought she saw an embroidered cloth over the chess king. Her eyes were not as sharp as they once were, she thought as she closed the box and put it away.   
  
She'd done what she could. Sometimes you just had to do your bit, and trust that it would come right in time.    
  



	35. Chapter 18

Hugo got home to find Victoria curled up under a blanket on the couch. He made her a cup of tea, placed it on the table next to her, then sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.   
  
Victoria burst into tears, so he rubbed her back and told her it would be okay and they'd get through it together.   
  
Finally she calmed down enough to explain what had happened. "...and he was just dead! I didn't expect him to die! I didn't expect it to work, really, except maybe to calm him down a bit. But he was just dead, and I didn't know what to do!" she concluded.   
  
Hugo rocked her quietly while she calmed down again. "He was dangerous, love, we know that. He said he killed Helena's family, and there's every possibility that he would have tried to kill you and Maryam too. I'm so glad he didn't get the chance," he said after a while.   
  
"I'm glad too. I just don't know why it worked. And it was so...it was so strange, having him there right in front of me," she whispered against his chest.   
  
"Are you more upset that he died, or that the magic worked when it shouldn't have?" Hugo asked curiously.   
  
Victoria thought about it. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "Death up close like that...it's very visceral. But that the magic worked is really unsettling. I don't know why it would kill him. It should have only made it easier for him to die when the time came."   
  
"Well, maybe the time did come? He was old, and very angry. Maybe it pushed him over."   
  
"Maybe." Victoria sounded very dubious. "I just can't believe someone who has taken that many precautions against death would be pushed over so easily."    
  
"So it could be coincidence," Hugo argued.    
  
"I suppose it could. The timing is awfully precise, though. He collapsed exactly when the light flashed."    
  
"Yeah, I know." Hugo hugged her again.    
  
After what seemed like a long time, Victoria began to relax. "I guess we'll probably never know about the magic. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not."   
  
Hugo hummed in agreement.    
  
"I don't intend to feel guilty about him, even if the magic did kill him," Victoria said firmly. "He was a terrible person, and he murdered at least four people that we know of, and in any case it probably counts as self-defense."    
  
"Four?" Hugo asked.    
  
"Jim Fairbody and his parents, and Zaire Morris."   
  
"Yes."   
  
Despite Victoria's determination, they huddled together on the couch until Grace and Ethan arrived home from school.    
  
\---   
  
"You need to tell your friends," Hugo said that evening.    
  
"I know. I just don't know what to say," Victoria replied. She hadn't picked up any embroidery to work on, and her hands felt empty. She shifted uncomfortably and clasped her hands in her lap.    
  
"You should probably do it quickly, like pulling off a bandaid. Just type out the bare facts and then fill in later as everyone processes."    
  
"Jaya says the research shows that it's less painful overall to pull a bandaid off slowly."    
  
Hugo chuckled. "You should probably still get it over with." He put the laptop in her lap.    
  
"Okay," Victoria said reluctantly, slowly opening the laptop.    
  
SleepyBug: Guys? Um. George...Geoffrey?... He's dead. I might have killed him. By accident. With magic.    
  
GRenegade: What???    
  
VertVanadium: How do you know? What happened?   
  
Sketchbooker: Are you okay?    
  
SleepyBug: I...yeah, I'm okay. Mostly. You remember how the music box charm and that journal I told you about were from Helena Diagio and brought to us by her nephew, Jim Fairbody?    
  
GRenegade: You didn't give us names, but sure.    
  
SleepyBug: Right, so we were planning on putting some of the stuff on display - the music box, and some of her sister's embroidery, and a few other things - so we sent Jim Fairbody a letter to let him know that his aunt's things were going on display. We invited him to the exhibit opening and things.    
  
Sketchbooker: Sure, that makes sense.    
  
GRenegade: And our George found out?    
  
SleepyBug: Turns out they're the same person. So he turned up to see the museum, and he started ranting and raving about how Helena had destroyed his life's work and stuff like that. And I didn't know...I mean, he looked like an eighty year old man, but he can look like whatever he wants, can't he? And he's killed all those people.    
  
GRenegade: So what did you do? A sleep charm couldn't kill him.    
  
SleepyBug: Jaya had this idea that I should add a sleep charm to the music box charm, that it might help undo or weaken the immortality stuff he's done. I had made the sleep charm, but hadn't put it in the box because I didn't really think it would do anything. But...it did. I don't know how.    
  
GRenegade: That...doesn't sound possible. I've been working out an algorithm based on Geoffrey's research to predict magic outcomes, and I'm pretty sure that should definitely not have worked.    
  
VertVanadium: Don't be too quick to assume. Life can work out in very odd ways sometimes.    
  
Sketchbooker: In any case, it clearly did work. Are you sure you're okay, SleepyBug?    
  
SleepyBug: I'm pretty shaken up, I admit. But my husband came home early and I'm doing okay.    
  
VertVanadium: If George is dead, we should contact Jeff immediately.    
  
GRenegade: I can do that. You're right, we should let him know. Jaya, too.    
  
VertVanadium: I actually meant that Jeff needs to get George's papers, and that life-taking charm. George has presumably died intestate with no living family, which would probably mean that his belongings revert to the local government.    
  
GRenegade: Oh, good point. I'll get him to take me with him, so I can clear out his computer at the same time. Or maybe steal it. There's not much on the computer that isn't magic-related, and a reformatted hard drive with nothing on it would look suspicious.    
  
SleepyBug: Maybe there's a way to make it look like an accident? A minor flood or something?    
  
GRenegade: Or an electrical surge. I'll see what I can do. I'll let you all know when we get back.    
  
Sketchbooker: SleepyBug, do you want to call SouthernJaya, or should I do it?   
  
SleepyBug: Why don't you do it. Tell her I'll call tomorrow. I'm pretty worn out.   
  
Sketchbooker: Of course. Have a good night.   
  
\---   
  
Victoria woke the next morning to find a new message from GRenegade on her phone.   
  
"All - Have gotten back from clearing George's house with Jeff. We intend to try the other two locations I've been tracking him to later this week. We have lots and lots of research to go through. The life-taking charm (which as it turns out is thick cloth, not a carpet - Jeff thinks it's a tapestry) has been delivered to an industrial blast furnace, so that's taken care of. We also found a list of people he's killed, so that's kind of terrible. They're mostly too long ago to be relevant, but we'll see if we can figure out what he did with the bodies and tip off the police for the more recent ones."   
  
\---   
  
Going to work that day was surreal. Neither Victoria nor Maryam got much of anything done. They did tidy up the mess that Geoffrey had made, but they spent more time staring blankly at screens or books than actually working. From one or two comments Maryam made, it sounded like she thought "Mr. Fairbody" had been delusional and paranoid, and Victoria was content to leave it at that.    
  
Someone from the police station called mid-day to let them know that Jim's death had been ruled as natural causes. The police had looked into the deaths of Jim and Phoebe Fairbody, and found that they had died in a car crash in 1962. With the family dead and any evidence long gone, the police put a note in the file but didn't intend to pursue it further.    
  
Victoria ducked out during lunch to call Jaya. Jaya felt somewhat guilty about the whole thing, as the sleep charm had been her idea, so the conversation was good for both of them. Jaya also suggested that Victoria see a therapist, when she was ready. Victoria could pretend to feel guilty for going into the basement in the first place, thereby causing "Mr. Fairbody" to pound on the door and trigger the aneurysm rupture. It wasn't that far from the truth.    
  
After lunch, Victoria paged absent-mindedly through Helena's journal. The recipes and clippings seemed very soothing now, like the presence of old friends.    
  
On an impulse, Victoria texted Greg, "Do I want to know how many people were on that list?"    
  
The phone pinged a few minutes later.    
  
GRenegade: "About a hundred, with dates going back four hundred years. They're categorized as "Magic," "Necessity," and "Entertainment," though thankfully there's only a few under the last heading. It's totally gross."   
  
SleepyBug: Where were the Fairbodys listed?   
  
GRenegade: Necessity. JFK is right under them.   
  
SleepyBug: You're kidding.   
  
GRenegade: Yes. Sorry. He's not really there. Though I have been wondering if there was magical assistance involved somehow. Might be in these records somewhere.


	36. July

That dratted music box was still bugging her. Well, not the box itself, but the design in the sleeping charm. It wasn't finished, and it was bothering her.   
  
And then there was the niggling suspicion that she somehow had something to do with the one time her mother's charm had worked differently. It made perfect sense, except for the part where it was impossible. The charm had forced someone to sleep years in the past. Her magic would have had to travel through time. It didn't make sense.   
  
But then, of course, she was dealing with magic. It didn't make sense that an embroidered accent on a sheet would make people sleep better, or that a doodled page would trap someone in her office all afternoon. Who knew what the rules were?   
  
Finally, Grace gave in. She would finish the design so it would stop bothering her. It wouldn't do any harm, at least.   
  
She pulled out the box, removed the sleep charm, and placed it on a fresh sheet of paper. She extended the stitched lines with her pencil, and began filling in new branches.   
  
The room was quiet as she worked. The soft scrape of the pencil made a rhythmic accompaniment for the branching and intersecting lines spreading out before her. Grace relaxed, allowing herself to mindlessly follow the pattern.   
  
Finally the light flashed, and it was done. Grace breathed deeply and sat back. It was satisfying to have it finally done.   
  
Grace scooped up both the charms and put them in the music box. To her surprise, light flashed again. She had a sense of being with two other women for a moment, and of another presence, a whirling, laughing presence. There was a breeze on her cheeks, just enough to stir her hair, and then it was gone. All was quiet again.   
  
Grace looked at the music box, which was as still as ever. It was only when she lifted it to pack it away again that she noticed the change.   
  
The chess king had fallen over.    



	37. Chapter 19

At the end of the week, Greg reported back to the group.   
  
GRenegade: Well, Jeff and I have checked out all four locations. We've identified what we think is the charm he was using to get back and forth - it's a set of five wooden hoops, about the size of hula hoops. He had one at each location, and a spare in a closet in the Montana house.   
  
Sketchbooker: What will we do with them?   
  
GRenegade: Keep them, for now. They might be useful someday. If we can't get them working, or if they do something harmful, we can always destroy them later.   
  
TheJeff: That blast furnace we visited was kind of neat, actually.   
  
GRenegade: Anyway, the Washington location was a shared office space; we couldn't get in without being noticed, and it's unlikely he kept anything sensitive there anyway.   
  
SleepyBug: Do we know what he was doing there?   
  
TheJeff: Not for sure, but have you seen articles recently about a missing congressional staffer? I suspect that was Geoffrey. The dates match up.    
  
VertVanadium: Robin McCoy? I had wondered that myself. My wife has been following the case on the news.    
  
SouthernJaya: That makes sense. He liked to influence people, after all.    
  
Sketchbooker: But you searched the Montana and Maryland locations?   
  
GRenegade: We did. We have piles and piles of information. It's mostly at Jeff's place.    
  
TheJeff: I'll be wading through it for forever. There's tons, and I am trying to maintain a somewhat normal schedule these days.   
  
VertVanadium: Why don't I help with that? I'm retired; I don't have anything better to do. I could come visit, or you could just ship some of it to me.   
  
TheJeff: Maybe you can visit over a weekend, and take some of it home with you   
  
VertVanadium: Agreed. We'll hash out the details later.   
  
GRenegade: What about the Straight Line Magic forums? How do you want to handle that?   
  
TheJeff: Well, I haven't announced the death yet, but I will soon. I'll keep the announcement simple enough, and try to keep a close eye on things. It's possible that George had enough influence over some people to leave them in kind of a vulnerable state.   
  
SouthernJaya: I guess we moderators should be more watchful too. I'll try to be present as often as possible for a while.   
  
GRenegade: I'll do the same thing with the people he was emailing. Even if they see the announcement on the website, a personal touch might help them reach out if they need help.   
  
SleepyBug: Do we have any idea why the sleeping charm made him die? I'm sorry to keep harping on this, but it's been bothering me a little.   
  
GRenegade: Nope, sorry. Jeff and I have both been over it. The only thing that would explain it is a third charm, and as far as we know there wasn't one.   
  
SleepyBug: Maybe someone with a knowing magic gift, working with someone who could do the killing somehow?   
  
TheJeff: I guess it's possible, but you're postulating two completely unknown people who somehow found each other, both have exceptionally powerful gifts (knowing gifts almost never give that kind of detail, and I've never heard of one that gives real-time knowledge like that), and are working together on this. Frankly, it doesn't seem very likely.   
  
SleepyBug: I guess that's true. I'll probably never know.   
  
SouthernJaya: I'm just glad it did work. That was a dangerous situation!   
  
SleepyBug: It really was. The police didn't find any weapons on him, but he might have had any number of charms and they wouldn't notice.   
  
\---   
  
Two weeks after Geoffrey's death, Victoria found Hugo on the couch.   
  
"So here's a thing," she said, sitting next to him.   
  
"Oh?" Hugo looked up.   
  
"Greg emailed me today. You remember how we think that missing congressional staffer, Robin McCoy, might have been Geoffrey?"   
  
Hugo sat up and put his arms around Victoria, pulling her to rest against his chest. "Sure. I saw an article about him today, actually. Sounds like the police are pretty baffled."   
  
"Well, they would be, if he could teleport and shapeshift and was someone else when he died." Victoria smirked a little.    
  
"True."   
  
"Anyway, Greg was doing some poking online. He doesn't want to risk hacking congressional emails if he doesn't have to, but a lot of it is public anyway. Turns out it looks like Geoffrey was one of the main drivers behind that Pyramid Foundation initiative."   
  
"So it won't go through? That's a shame."   
  
"We're not sure how much momentum it has, but we're also not sure that we want it to go through. Greg emailed me the official logo today," said Victoria, holding out her phone so Hugo could see it.   
  
The logo had a golden pyramid on green grass, with a blue sky behind it. "The Pyramid Foundation" arched over it, in fancy block letters. Underneath was a tagline: "Building a tower of destiny with tomorrow's youth."   
  
"Didn't Geoffrey...?" Hugo trailed off.   
  
"Yup."   
  
"Well."   
  
"Yup."   
  
"That's horrifying."   
  
"Yes. We don't know exactly what his plan was. Greg hopes they'll find it in the research somewhere, and then we'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with. Assuming it still happens; he says it's very possible that the whole thing will collapse. But he also says that he's been looking into the properties acquired for the Pyramid Foundation, and most of them correspond to the addresses Helena had for Geoffrey."   
  
"And Jeff, I assume."   
  
"No, actually. But we think he probably stopped drawing his sigil or whatever it was after she built her charm and he realized it wasn't working right."    
  
"Well, whatever he was up to, I'm very glad you got rid of him," Hugo decided, hugging her tight. "That's a lot of kids you kept safe."   
  
Victoria smiled up at him. "I'm glad too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Thanks for reading.


End file.
